Gargoyle Knight: A Dark Urban Fantasy (3 page)

Rhianna passed through the gardens, crossing a large open area dominated by an outdoor display. The brooding circle of hulking stones was reminiscent of Stonehenge and radiated an ancient power – it seemed from another world and not made by human hands.
 

At the ring's center, there was a giant statue of a demonic head adorned by a cyclopean eye – a crude representation of the Celtic demon Balor. It made Rhianna think of the head statues on Easter Island, but with a Celtic twist.
 

The rocks came from the excavation site in Ireland and were flown in only a few weeks earlier. Her father had supervised the meticulous process of recreating the original configuration of the massive boulders on the museum grounds. His team must have taken a million pictures of the site so it would be easier to duplicate. They had done an amazing job – the ring of stones was an exact replica of the one they encountered in Ireland.

Rhianna stepped into Celtic monument, awe-stricken.
 

Wow.
 

This was what it was all about, why she spent hours going over ancient manuscripts and analyzed texts written in forgotten dialects. The chance to go back to a place long gone, but not forgotten, was what made it all worthwhile.
 

Energized by her brush with living history, Rhianna entered the main building of the cloisters. The exhibit was still one day away from being open to the public and she was forced to pass through a cordoned-off area of the museum. She made her way down an arched, Gothic corridor and emerged on the exhibit floor.
 

Signs of Celtic art and culture abounded. Medieval weapons lined the walls and there were dioramas and panoramas featuring armor, statues and artwork. Rhianna’s attention quickly shifted to the life-sized stone gargoyle that formed the centerpiece of the display. It was the one-eyed statue depicted in the promotional image Rhianna had sitting over her desk back at the apartment.
 

The photograph didn’t do justice to the gargoyle, failing to capture its coiled intensity and malevolent energy. The eight-foot tall stone beast was larger than a man. Its extended wings and rippling musculature created the impression that the creature was about to launch into a vicious attack.
 

Rhianna felt a shiver dance up her spine and quickened her step without quite realizing it, putting some distance between her and the monstrous creature. She had almost crossed the exhibit when a young, handsome security guard intercepted her. The man flashed a big grin.

“Good evening, Miss Sharpe. Planning on pulling an all-nighter again?”
 

“It sure looks like it.”

“If you need anything, let me know, okay? I’ll be making my rounds until six.”

Rhianna nodded shyly, surprised by the man's flirtatious smile. The guard winked at her and continued on his way while Rhianna proceeded toward her dad’s office. As she drew closer to the exhibit floor’s exit, she took note of the diorama of her father’s latest architectural dig in Ireland. The images took up nearly the whole wall and featured various angles of the excavation site. Some were taken from the air, some from the ground. There were shots of her father’s archeological team, men and women whose faces were flush with excitement and the hushed awe of discovery.
 

Rhianna eyed the pictures with longing – eventually she would be part of an excavation herself, but that day couldn’t come fast enough. She was tired of stuffy classrooms and dusty tomes. She craved adventure and excitement. How much longer did she have to wait before she could roll up her sleeves and get her hands dirty out in the field? To her mind, her father had the sweetest job. A hand on Rhianna's shoulder startled her.
 

“Soon enough you’ll be joining me on one of my expeditions.”

Rhianna turned toward her father and wondered if he was a mind reader. Her face brightened and she gave him a quick peck on the cheek.
 

“Promise, promises,” Rhianna teased.

Up close her father looked even more vibrant and dynamic than in the picture back at her apartment. Tanned and fit, he still had most of his hair, though it was turning a distinguished silver. Dr. Sharpe projected a youthful, vibrant energy that was strong and virile. Most men wished they could have his looks and stamina once they crossed fifty. His clothes fit his persona like a glove. He was dressed exactly the way one would imagine an archeologist to dress when making a quick pit stop in civilization. He wore brown khakis, a pair of Timberlands and a tan shirt with the top two buttons open. Around his neck he sported a Triquetra, which consisted of three interconnected triangular shapes. The symbol was Celtic in origin but its meaning depended on one’s cultural background. Christians considered the Triquetra a sign of the trinity. Celtic pagans felt it was representative of the three parts of the universe: land, sea and air. Wiccans recognized in it the three-part nature of the Goddess.
 

To Dr. Sharpe, the pendant was a visual shorthand for his expertise in Celtic mythology. Plus, he dug the air of mystery it projected to both those in the know and the uninitiated. In short, it looked cool.
 

Dr. Sharpe smiled at his daughter and a web of crows’ feet crinkled, testimony to a life largely spent outdoors. There was real warmth between them that was obvious to anyone who saw them together. They had grown closer since Rhianna’s mother passed away from breast cancer. It had been a painful period in both their lives and sometimes she could see her dad staring forlornly into space, remembering the woman who’d given him so many great years.
 

Rhianna knew her father was lonely but the all-consuming nature of his work prevented him from fixating on his grief or looking for someone new to share his life with.
 

Rhianna extricated a folder from her backpack and handed it to her dad.
 

“The presentation you asked for. I tried to compare the historical text with the folklore and legends of the time, putting special emphasis on the origins of the gargoyle myth...”
 

Dr. Sharpe scanned the pages and nodded in growing approval.
 

“This looks great!”

Rhianna relaxed, glad to see her dad was genuinely satisfied with her work. She had slaved over the project for days and was proud of the results. Hours of research had been condensed into dynamic copy. It was hard work, but rewarding.
 

“I found the research texts you gave me fascinating,“ Rhianna said, beaming ear to ear. Gargoyles had fascinated her since she was a little girl, which made the job a lot easier. Though surrounded by the statues all her life, she had known little about the myths that inspired these grotesque creations. She had always believed that they originated in France.
 

To a degree, there was some truth to that notion. The term came from the French word
gargouilles
or the Latin
Gurgulio
– both meant “throat.” In the strictest sense, gargoyles were designed to direct a roof’s runoff water away from the base of the wall. They served an architectural function. This didn’t explain why church builders would place demons on their rooftops. Some theories speculated that gargoyles represented condemned souls intercepted on their way to hell. They were placed on church rooftops to warn those who hadn’t yet renounced sin and embraced the Church.
 

But there were older legends and folk tales...
 

“I bet you didn’t know that gargoyles were Celtic creatures of myth?”

Rhianna shook her head. “The church builders incorporated them into their designs so that pagans would embrace Christianity.”
 

“The medieval equivalent of marketing. Pull in the public with something they’re familiar with and once you hook them, sell them the whole bag of goods.” Dr. Sharpe grinned, for a moment resembling a teenager up to no good.
 

“I was fascinated by the myth of Artan and his brother Cael,” Rhianna said. “Some texts suggest the first gargoyles were erected in Ireland to honor the sacrifice of the great king and to remind the world of the darkness that nearly consumed it. This story could be the origin of every gargoyle in the world.”
 

Dr. Sharpe nodded knowingly. “That’s my theory. The legend set the ball in motion and evolved over time.”

Rhianna had come to a similar conclusion based on her own research. According to the texts that survived, the warrior-druid Cael had created gargoyles from the soil of the Earth with the help of the
Eye of Balor
, a powerful magical gem given to him by the Celtic demon Balor. He had allowed himself to be bitten by one of the creatures and was crowned their master here on earth. The one-eyed statue was an artistic interpretation of the monster that Cael supposedly turned into. Artan finally defeated the evil druid when he shattered the
Eye
. With the source of the magic destroyed, the gargoyles reverted back to the element that originally spawned them, becoming statues. Not exactly the sort of fairy tale that Pixar would turn into a tentpole film.

“It’s the perfect story to draw the public into the exhibit and expose them to Celtic culture. Gargoyles are scary, and the public loves scary. Especially on Halloween.”
 

Rhianna had to agree, glancing at the one-eyed statue. She loved gargoyles but there was something different about this one. No matter how often she looked at the winged sculpture, it never lost its power to intimidate and repel. Her father had unearthed the statue back at the excavation site in Ireland and she wished he had left it buried. It felt like an evil thing that shouldn’t be part of the world, much less a NYC museum exhibit.

Turning away from the sculpture and back to her dad, Rhianna said, “It’s kinda sad that my generation only wants the comic-book version of history.”

“Hopefully they'll be intrigued by what they see and learn a thing or two.”
 

Rhianna was all-too aware of the commercial angle her dad was trying to play up here. Funding archeological digs didn’t come cheap.

“The myths explain medieval Europe, but what about the prevalence of these gargoyles in modern-day Manhattan?” Rhianna wondered aloud.

“They just kind of caught on,” answered the professor. “Became an architectural trend. Gargoyles provided a form of entertainment and diversion. You have to remember, we’re talking about a time when most people couldn’t read and there were no movies, no video games,
no smart phones
…”

The last comment came in response to Rhianna’s chirping cell. Her father wasn’t a fan of modern communication (unsurprising for a man so drawn to the past), or of being interrupted once he hit his groove.
 

Rhianna killed the phone, but not before catching a glimpse of the pic Natalie had sent her. In the photo, Natalie held up a skimpy Wonder Woman costume that would’ve made Lynda Carter blush. The ominous text message read “
Found your Halloween outfit.”

Rhianna shook her head and put her cell away. Her idea of a cool Halloween costume was dressing up as Indiana Jones, which she had done to the horror of her roommate during her college freshman year. After taking one look at the baggy pants, leather jacket and fedora, Natalie urged Rhianna to wear short shorts and a tight top to go as the Tomb Raider chick. Unless she wanted the boys to think she was a lesbo.
 

Rhianna followed her advice and spent the rest of the evening warding off drunk frat boys who mistook her costume, or lack thereof, as an open invitation. Even though she went as Lara Croft to appease her roomie and the matchmaking gods, she hummed the
Raiders of the Lost Ark
theme all night long.

Looking up from her phone, Rhianna flashed her father an apologetic smile. “Sorry, dad!”
 

Her attention was drawn once more to the excavation pictures. There was a wistful note in her voice as she spoke. “I wish I could've been there when you discovered the tomb.”

“There will be plenty of adventures in your future. Come, I have a surprise for you.”

Rhianna gave her father an intrigued look.
 

“Now you got me curious.”
 

Rhianna fell in step with her dad. They walked from the Celtic display area into a series of medieval corridors and passageways. After a few minutes, they stepped into his private office. Decorated with taste and masculine elegance, it was clearly the domain of a man whose passion was the Middle Ages. Various artifacts were laid out on the desk.
 

Dr. Sharpe pointed at a velvet-lined display case. “I present to you the
Eye of Balor.
Both halves reunited for the first
time in fifteen-hundred years.”

The Eye of Balor. The source of Cael’s magical power. The gem that Artan’s blade had shattered.

Rhianna leaned over the metal case and beheld the gem, awed. The two pieces had been placed together but couldn’t disguise the deep cracks where the ruby had broken in two. Dr. Sharpe held the gem against the light, being careful to exert enough pressure to keep the two halves together.
 

Rhianna took a step closer. The gem was aptly named; it indeed resembled an eye. With red veins traced throughout its depths, the stone was not quite opaque. Its colors were more intense than those normally found in a gem and nearly translucent; it somehow wove the surrounding light into a hypnotic display of light and shadow.

“Supposedly, this gem was the source of the warrior-druid’s power. We found one half embedded in the eye socket of our lovely one-eyed gargoyle statue. The other half is on loan from the Irish government.”

Rhianna grinned with excitement as she studied the gem. “How did you get the Museum of Ireland to hand over their piece?”

“Just some good old fashioned Irish charm.”

“You mean ass kissing?”

Dr. Sharpe flashed her a roguish smile.
 

“Whatever gets the job done, right?”