Gabriel's Clock (8 page)

Chapter 9

Elgar walked back to the vicarage, having accompanied Jonathan and Cay on a marathon door-knocking session that had lasted most of the day. Everyone had been pleased to see that Jonathan was recovering, and he got the chance to say thank you for all the cards and presents he'd received. Full of tea and Battenberg cake, Elgar had left Cay showing Jonathan how to fly her kite.

“A catnap before dinner, I think,” he said, pushing his way through the flap in the kitchen door. Once inside, he climbed into a wicker basket that sat in the corner. The basket had once belonged to a little King Charles spaniel, the beloved pet of Ignatius's mother, Constance. Constance had named the spaniel Renoir after her favorite Impressionist painter.

Renoir had passed away many years before, and when Constance left Hobbes End to live in Devon after the death of her husband, Salvador, she left the basket behind in case Ignatius ever decided to get a dog of his own. Ignatius had been considering the pros and cons of a springer spaniel when Elgar had arrived at the vicarage and claimed the vacant basket. After that, Ignatius quickly gave up on the idea of getting a dog.

“Ah, home sweet home.” The cat chuckled to himself. “I just wish I could get rid of the smell of wet dog.” He stretched, and with a loud crack his back paws punched through the side of the basket.

“Oops!” he exclaimed, surveying the damage.

“What have you done now?” asked Grimm, looking over his shoulder from the other side of the kitchen. Elgar gave him a sheepish grin and began trying desperately to free himself. Watching Elgar as he struggled and swore, Grimm had enormous trouble suppressing a smile.

“Tell you what,” he said to the entangled cat. “Hold still and I'll give you a hand.” He reached for a meat cleaver hanging to one side of the oven and made a great show of testing its edge with his thumb. Walking over to the basket, he kneeled down and raised the blade. “Don't worry,” he said calmly. “You won't feel a thing!”

Not reassured in the slightest, Elgar yowled and sprinted for the door using just his front legs and dragging the basket along with him. He shot through the cat flap, tearing the basket free and sending splintered wicker in all directions. The flap swung to and fro like a saloon door as Grimm laughed his head off.

Ignatius looked into the kitchen to see what all the fuss was about. Seeing Grimm hooting with mirth and clutching a meat cleaver, he decided that he probably didn't want to know.

“Right, then,” said the vicar. “I'll go and lay the table for dinner. Jonathan and our guests will be here soon.”

“Ah, yes,” said Grimm. “It'll be a nice opportunity for Gabriel to see how well Jonathan's settling in and have a chat with him at the same time. When do you think Gabriel will tell him the truth?”

Ignatius shrugged. “Hopefully he won't need to. With any luck Jonathan's parents will return soon and all will be right with the world. I guess at that point we're going to have to apologize to Jonathan for all the deception.”

Grimm returned to his omelet making. “Who'd have thought it?” he muttered. “What an interesting summer this is turning out to be.”

The front door of the vicarage banged open, and voices drifted along the hallway. Ignatius, who had just finished laying the dining table, marveled at the ability of children to know precisely when food is about to be served. With a clatter, the heads of Jonathan and Cay—with Elgar at their feet—appeared round the door, closely followed by Gabriel. He was smartly dressed in a black suit, and his long white hair was neatly tied back.

“I found these three outside,” he said with a wink. “They looked hungry.”

“Dinner's ready!” Grimm bellowed from the kitchen.

“Excellent,” said Ignatius. “Grab yourselves a seat.”

They all sat down around the oval dining table as Grimm brought in a huge tureen of steaming omelet and peas. Elgar sat on his own chair between Jonathan and Cay, but despite the omelet containing smoked haddock, Grimm just gave him his usual kipper.

“Why don't you want any omelet, Elgar?” asked Cay.

“Have you any idea what that amount of egg would do to my insides?” Elgar replied. “I'd be farting for England!”

“And that is something we can all do without,” rumbled Grimm, uncorking a bottle of particularly good wine he'd fetched from the cellar.

“I gather you've been introducing Jonathan to the villagers,” Ignatius said to Cay.

She grinned. “Yeah, we saw just about everyone today. Professor Morgenstern had the blueprints for his time machine laid out on his front lawn.”

“He'd lost his favorite pen, and he wasn't wearing any socks or shoes,” added Jonathan. “I did remember to thank him for lending me his laptop, though. What did he call the thingy that makes his time machine work?” he asked Elgar.

“Reticulate paradox theory,” mumbled Elgar through a mouthful of kipper.

“Hmm,” said Grimm. “I have no idea whether he really is a genius or just unhinged.”

“And then we saw the twins,” said Cay. “They showed Jonathan their stuffed-owl collection.”

“Ew,” Grimm shuddered.

“You're not scared of owls, are you?” asked Elgar.

“I'm not scared of anything!” barked Grimm. “It's just those huge eyes and the way their heads swivel the whole way round so they're looking backwards. It's not natural.”

Elgar snorted into his bowl, sending bits of fish everywhere.

“Clara and Cecily do like their taxidermy,” said Ignatius. “Although the local owl population seems rather thin on the ground since they arrived.”

“Why did they come to Hobbes End?” asked Jonathan.

“I'm not at liberty to divulge that,” said Ignatius, trying to suppress a grin. “Everyone is allowed their secrets.”

“Oh, I saw Mr. Peters earlier too,” said Jonathan. “He seems nice enough, but he doesn't seem very fond of Cay.”

Cay pretended to be very interested in the contents of her omelet.

“That's because Cay thinks Mr. Peters is a vampire,” said Ignatius. “Which is, of course, nonsense; Mr. Peters is just very sensitive to sunlight—hence the black coat, hat, gloves, and sunglasses. If she was nice to him for a day, she might even notice his patently fangless smile.”

“You didn't tell me that,” Jonathan said to Cay.

“Well,” said an embarrassed Cay, “it's just a theory.”

“Think about it, Cay,” said Ignatius. “I wish you'd stop trying to knock off his hat with your kite to see if he catches fire, or sneaking up on him in the dark and shoving an ultraviolet flashlight in his face. He bends my ear about it every chance he gets. And Lord knows what he says to your parents . . .”

Cay pouted.

“Who else did you see, Jonathan?” asked Grimm.

“We had tea with Mr. and Mrs. Flynn, and I thanked them for the sherbet lemons.”

“They are mighty fine boiled sweets,” purred Elgar.

“And then there was Mrs. Silkwood,” Jonathan continued. “All she had in her front room was a table with this big green plant in a pot. She wouldn't let us near it, and she refused to let Elgar in the house at all.”

“Hmm, she is very protective of her aspidistra,” said Ignatius. “And I gather there's a very good reason she won't let Elgar in.”

The cat chuckled to himself. “Well, she locked me in her house by accident once. I was stuck in there all morning, and I was busting for a pee.”

“Oh, you didn't!” said Grimm. “It's a wonder the poor plant's still alive.”

The cat shrugged and continued eating his fish.

Jonathan stole a glance at Gabriel. The feeling of having met him before was stronger than ever, but he knew that was impossible. He'd never even heard of Hobbes End before two weeks ago—and he certainly wouldn't have believed that angels existed. Gabriel sensed he was being watched and met Jonathan's gaze. He smiled.

“Is my birthday present ready?” asked Cay.

Gabriel rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. “It's sitting on my workbench as we speak. And no, I'm not telling you what it is, and no, you can't have it until Sunday.”

“But that's five days away,” she protested.

“Life can be so unfair.” Gabriel grinned.

“Is it true?” asked Jonathan, remembering what Cay had said to him about Gabriel, and dying to know more. “Did you land here after being exiled from Heaven, and did it make the village come alive or something?”

“Oh, this is an amazing story,” said Cay.

“I'm glad you find my fall from grace so exciting, Miss Forrester,” said Gabriel, pretending to be offended.

“I didn't mean to—”

“It's fine,” said the angel. “I'm just teasing you. This story is village legend, so it's only fair that Jonathan know it too. Would you like to hear it?” he asked.

Jonathan nodded and leaned forward.

“Well,” said Gabriel. “While we digest that splendid omelet, here is my tale. A long, long time ago—”

“In a galaxy far, far away,” mumbled Elgar.

Grimm flicked the cat's ear. “Hush!”

“Heaven was at war with itself. Lucifer, the strongest, brightest, and proudest angel, decided that he knew best as far as creation was concerned. He wanted to rule Heaven his way, and being so proud, he believed himself right. War followed. Brother against brother, sister against sister. In the end Heaven, under the banner of archangel Uriel, managed to stop Lucifer, bind him with chains of glass, and exile him. He fell all the way down to Hell itself, leaving a shattered city behind him. Sadly Uriel then died of his wounds, so Heaven needed someone new to be in charge.”

Gabriel took a sip of wine and paused. Jonathan could see that telling this story was difficult for him, and began to wish that he hadn't brought the subject up. Staring into his wineglass, Gabriel continued.

“And so four new angels were created to take care of Heaven.

“My elder brother, Raphael Executor, whose job it was to be just, to be fair, and to rule.

“My big sister, Sammael Morningstar, who lit the stars in the sky to bring light to the void.

“Me, Gabriel Artificer, the engineer with knowledge of how creation worked and how to fix it when it broke.

“And finally, my little brother, Michael Hellbane, the brave soldier, always first into battle and utterly fearless. The four of us brought order and peace for a time, but it didn't last.”

“Lucifer?” asked Jonathan.

Gabriel nodded. “Our predecessor wasn't going to just give up. He was powerful, and he wanted revenge. He reigned over a big part of Hell, leaving the rest to be fought over by three archdemons—Belial, Baal, and Lilith.”

At the mention of the name Belial, a sudden blend of anger and fear welled up inside Jonathan. His palms felt clammy, and his shoulders ached, just like they had when the cottage had been attacked. Jonathan jumped when Gabriel touched him on the arm.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Jonathan nodded, not wanting to spoil Gabriel's story. He took a sip of water and forced himself to appear calm. “Sorry,” he said. “I just felt a bit dizzy.”

“You're probably tired after being in bed for so long before today. Would you like me to continue another time?”

“No, please don't stop,” said Jonathan. “I really want to hear it.”

“Okay, then. Using threats and promises, Lucifer joined forces with the archdemons and launched an all-out attack on Heaven. We knew it was coming and we had prepared, but the cost would be dear. We faced the hordes of Hell on the plain of Armageddon—a tiny force of angels against unimaginable odds. We all did . . . questionable things that day.” Gabriel sighed. “I had created machines to help us in our fight. The cherubim they were called, my three hollow angels, engines of living metal with wings of razor-edged glass. I remember watching them scythe into the ranks of demons.” He paused, sadness evident in his eyes as he continued softly, “I did not think there was that much blood in all of creation.”

Gabriel bowed his head a moment, then continued.

“The slaughter was terrible. Angels and demons may be long lived, but we are far from immortal. We can all bleed, we can all die. In the end, even Lucifer was sickened by it. Possibly because some vestige of the angel he had been remained inside him, he decided to stop the fighting and to challenge my sister, Sammael, to a duel. The winner would decide the fate of Heaven and Hell. Michael wanted to fight Lucifer, but he'd been badly wounded, as had I and Raphael. There was just our sister left unscathed, and she was magnificent. She earned her title of Morningstar a thousand times over that day, so bright did she shine as she fought Lucifer.

“And then suddenly, amazingly, she won, and Lucifer, kneeling on the ground at her feet, surrendered. She ordered that from that day forth Heaven and Hell would never again go to war with each other. Angels and demons would be allowed to walk the earth, as long as they masked their true forms and did not interfere with humanity in any way. The archdemons were furious—they wanted to continue the fight, but they were scared of Lucifer and of what he could do, so they went back to Hell, nursing their grudges against him and against Heaven. Our struggle was almost over, but there was one more tragedy to come.”

So powerful was Gabriel's storytelling that Jonathan felt himself transported to the battlefield. He imagined himself standing among the wounded and the dying, adrift in a sea of crimson mud. It was awful.

“It was Raphael's screaming that shattered the silence,” said Gabriel. “We found him cradling the body of his wife, his beloved Bethesda, the broken shaft of an arrow sticking out of her throat. We tried to console him, but it was no use. Something inside him broke that day. Instead of being just and kind, he became vengeful and bitter. He ranted at Sammael for not finishing the fight, for not killing Lucifer and the archdemons, for letting them all go home when his wife was dead in his arms. He seemed to forget that I'd lost my own wife in a previous battle. We'd each lost people we loved during the years of war, but all we wanted now was for it to stop.”