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Brood of a New Age

22.

Nashville had already been squatting on the roof of the washrooms for ten minutes, waiting for Graziella.

Just thinking about her made him grin. He - Nashville - had a human friend. A secret friend that his father and his clan knew nothing about. Someone who belonged only to him. Well, Graziella was a girl and not even half his age in human years. But they were somehow friends even if they could not do more with each other than talk. That was enough for him. For now. Lex was right. Even if they had seen snippets - those had only been versions of the future and how the next weeks, months and years would unfold in THIS time plane, no one could say. The future was not set in stone. Maybe ... he could show himself to her in some nights - if he could be certain she wouldn't run screaming and her parents weren't passionate Quarrymen. He wasn't sure how he could get on those subjects to check it out but maybe something like that would come up.

The fact that there was a new Gargoyle in town was exciting, but it didn't concern him because he wasn't involved in Clan activities. His relatives would take care of the matter. The short hope he had had that the clan would look for this new gargoyle without breaks tonight he had given up. He could not rely on that. He would leave again when his watch sounded the alarm. Too great would be the danger of being caught sneaking back later. The important thing was that he was not caught sneaking in and out and that Graziella was safe coming here. And how great would be the probability that they both would meet this dangerous new gargoyle here in this playground? He would hardly come here to swing. Nashville chuckled softly at the thought.

Finally, the barrier squeaked again as a slender little body squeezed through. Nash watched the child - again wearing a thin hooded sweater - walk across the square, cautious and groping as if she were nearly blind. Which she probably was. She was only human, Nashville had to keep telling himself, and the thought made him kind of sad. It would be too great if Graziella were a gargoyle. If she could turn into a gargoyle with a snap of fingers and come to the castle with him. She could petrify next to him and Bronx and Fu-Dog would love her because gargoyle beasts were totally fond of children. They could glide together and he could teach her sword fighting if she wanted and even that he was not allowed to go on patrol would not be so bad anymore because she would be with him. He fantasized how his friend might look like as a gargoyle and it occurred to him that he had never seen her before. Never seen her face. He crawled down the rain gutter of the washroom and across the square with as much haste as soundlessness. Graziella had stopped in the middle of the play area, holding onto a spring rocker shaped like a frog and looking around.

Nashville faltered briefly as she looked in his direction - exactly at HIM - and then turned her head nevertheless. She did not see him. His clothes made him blend into the darkness of the square. As long as he didn't put himself between Graziella and one of the distant lights, she wouldn't even see his outline. How could people live and be SO blind? Smiling and with his heart pounding, he positioned himself - directly in front of her. And although she still didn't notice him, it was probably by coincidence that at that second she raised her small hands to her hood and pulled it down. She turned her head and Nashville saw her face for the first time. His jaw dropped. She was so beautiful.

Nashville had lived in different times, met many gargoyles and humans, or at least seen them from afar, but he had never thought of a human in terms of beauty or ugliness. To be honest, he found pretty much all humans rather ordinary. They almost all had the same skin color, no horns, no physical features that made them very different from each other, and most people melted together in his mind into a gray mass of uniformity. Supermodels on TV or shaggy homeless people - they all looked almost the same to him. And now, for the first time, he saw his little human-friend Graziella and she was breathtakingly beautiful. Flawless. No, even more than flawless because the small mole on the side of her cheekbone broke up a too unnatural symmetry in her face. Her skin even, her features gentle, the long curly hair silky and just the opposite of his.

He pushed himself exploratively closer to her. If she had taken a step forward, she would have run into him. If she had reached out, she would have touched his beak. But she just stood there with this helpless doubting expression on her face because she was looking for her friend who had arranged to meet her here. He began to sniff, to take in her scent so he would never forget it. She smelled like soap and toothpaste but underneath was her milky childlike scent mark. But that was beside the point because it would change by the time she reached puberty. Soundlessly he flared his nostrils, puckered his beak, inhaled her scent also through his mouth that her fragrance settled on his tongue and finally found what would never change. Her essence as a human. He didn't know if it was hormones, pheromones, DNA, or the mixture of emzymes and proteins that emanated from her skin. But the barely perceptible cocktail of chemicals that escaped her pores and sweat glands burned into his brain and would ensure that he would be able to find her blindfolded in a room full of people. She opened her lips with little, straight human teeth.

"Nashville?" she called across the square almost in a whisper.

Hearing his name from that beautiful mouth made Nashville giggle and instantly the child recoiled and almost fell over the spring rocker which also made Nash wince.

"Nash!" she squealed shrilly, and though he would have liked nothing better than to take her hand, he knew that one touch of his leathery skin would have given him away. And his claws! There was no telling what his claws could do to that beautiful skin. Startled, he saw Graziella pull out a small flashlight. He jumped on all fours to the concrete climbing structure, where he crawled into the upper tube.

He saw the flashlight's beam twitch across the floor. But felt safe enough in his hiding place.

"Hey," he called, his voice echoing down the tube. The light twitched in his direction but didn't meet him.

"Have you been in there all this time?" she asked, and Nashville chuckled again.

"Of course. I've been waiting for you. Will you turn out the light?"

Instantly the light went out. "You still don't want me to see you," the most beautiful human child in town stated, and by the way her voice changed during the sentence and all at once echoed minimally he knew she was squatting in the tube below him again.

"Someday I'll show myself to you, but until then you have to admit it's cool to talk to someone you've never seen before."

"Mhmmpf, you city boys are weird," she said a little snarkily from beneath him.

"Yeah, I guess so," she then admitted.

"That's why my uncle likes to chat on the internet so much. He can talk to people all over the world. They don't see him, he doesn't see them but they can talk about things they couldn't tell each other face to face."

"In Limatola, where I come from, very few people had computers. And they always complained about the reception as if they had a telephone. I thought that was weird."

"My uncle says that someday we will all be able to take it for granted that-"

Their conversation was wonderfully lighthearted over the next hour, moving naturally from one topic to another. Nashville talked a bit about his father's travels- leaving out, of course, anything that referred to other times, past and future. He told, among other things, that his mom came from a very traditional Japanese household, and he was able to elicit a gloriously childish laugh from Graziella (in the middle of which was a grunt that made him laugh, too) after she asked him to speak Japanese and he told her, as requested, in the foreign language that he thought she was the most beautiful human child in the world. Graziella talked a lot about her life in Italy, about her mamma and grandma. Some things made Nashville sad, some things made him think, but they laughed about a lot of things. They got to know each other, circling each other through their questions and stories, but Nashville soon found a routine in his lies and half-truths that made him feel safer and less mendacious. It felt, after more than an hour, as if they had been friends for a long time.

He was stretched out semi-comfortably on the floor of his tube by now when the subject came back to Graziella's current circumstances.

"Did you make friends with any of the other kids from those aunts?"

"No."

"Surely one of them will be less horrible than others."

"Sure. One of the boys isn't so loud and wild and mean. But ... I don't know. He's a lot older than me. I'm sure he wouldn't want to be friends with a little girl."

"But you're not a typical little girl either, Graziella," he said softly, and she was silent for a few moments. Long enough for Nash to get worried.

"What's wrong?"

"My life in America is so totally different from what I thought it would be. I - except for Maria and you, there's nothing I like."

"You live in a big house. Your dad gave you a credit card that you could use to buy whatever you want."

"Yeah- but ... I don't really want anything for myself. I want -." She sobbed a little. Tonight she had tissues of her own and blew her nose.

"Sorry, I'm a crybaby."

"You're not at all. You're sad! Everybody's allowed to be sad!" he indignantly said.

"Yeah? I bet you never cry."

"Well. I don't cry. That's true. But I'm sad a lot, too."

"Yeah? About what?"

Nashville turned onto his stomach in the tube and stretched his wings as far as he could while thinking about how to tell her about it without her thinking he was less cool. If she thought he was cool. He wanted her to think that.

"Let's make it a game. You say one thing that bothers you about America or your new life, and I'll say one thing that bothers me."

"Okay! ...You start," Graziella said, instantly sounding more excited than sad because he had made a game out of her suffering. Nashville grinned even though he knew he would now have to spew a lot of lies and half-truths in no time but he had already spent hours thinking of answers for all sorts of questions. Answers that a halfway normal human boy would give.

"The first thing that frustrates me: My mom and dad! All I ever get is the be-good talk."

Yes! Don't eat that stuff. Don't be a mope. Be nice."

"Yeah! Do your chores, study, and listen to us. And all they care about is that stupid egg!"

"The what?"

"Um-uh about what my mom is hatching, I mean!" corrected Nash, slapping his palm against his forehead. First point and already he was spilling the beans. It was so much easier to practice in front of the mirror. But Graziella seemed to dismiss his mistake as carelessness either because she thought he didn't have a perfect grasp of the language after his long travels or because she thought the egg thing was an American idiom she just didn't know yet.

"Oh, she's going to have a baby soon," she said, giggling. As he had done many times before at that sound, Nashville's tail twitched back and forth in delight that he had to sit up and hold it.

"Yes. Exactly that," he confirmed hastily, shaking his tail threateningly. "It's so annoying. Baby this, baby that."

"I'd love a brother or sister."

"I don't mind getting a brother or sister. But if they're making such a fuss now, what's it going to be like when it's uhhh born?"

"Then you'll be a big brother. That's great."

"Now you say another thing," he urged.

"Okay. Uhhh, my dad just takes care of business. My great uncle and aunt too. They are all business people but NO ONE tells me what the business is because they think I'm too stupid."

"I get that. Do the adults around you always have that that-isn't-for-you attitude, too?"

"Yes. All the time. And when I ask something to understand it better, they laugh at me!"

"Or they pat you on the head!"

"Yes!"

"Yes! My life in America is also different than I hoped it would be. My parents promised me after the trips I would feel comfortable and at home here. But so far I do not at all! Now you, Graziella."

"I thought my family would be happy if I were here. But they don't seem to be at all. I don't want the stupid credit card, I want them to spend time with me and do nice things together so I can get to know them and they can get to know me. Now you, Nash."

"Okay! Relatives being the key word. My dependents live with me but they all had their lives before me and mom and dad came back. They're all wonderful at doing their own thing. And every time someone takes care of me I get the impression I'm tearing them away from the things they'd actually rather be doing."

"At least your relatives live with you and do things with you! Mine are never home. I haven't even seen my great grandpa yet. My aunt and uncle, in addition to the house where I live, have others where they sleep most nights. And my dad doesn't live where I live but in a damn hotel because it's more useful for his work!"

"Sometimes I wish my relatives didn't live with me. Then I'd be allowed to do what I want, no one would nag me and constantly push me to do things I think are stupid. And I wouldn't have to sneak out of the castle- er, house- behind their backs."

"You think just because I don't have adults around at night no one would nag at me? I feel small all the time when I'm around others - except you. And this house, without Maria- at night. It's so big and dark and even though there's New York outside the windows and often some of Dad's staff down in the yard, it's SO quiet in the house. And yet ..."

Nashville's ears pricked up as her voice- previously excited like his, now turned quiet and uncertain again.

"What about your house, Graziella?"

"- It's an old house," she said hesitantly. "I know that old houses make noises at night. It was the same in Italy. But here ... I'm scared every night."

Nashville narrowed his eyes. He didn't know what it was like to be afraid at night. Humans were afraid at night and in the dark because they couldn't see well when it was dark. He had never known anything like that. But sometimes, after particularly bad nights, he had thought a few seconds before sunrise that he would rather not petrify. Because then he wouldn't see, hear, smell anything, wouldn't resist, wouldn't even notice if something bad happened. This was perhaps a diffuse fear that all gargoyles sometimes had. The stone sleep with its ability to heal and rejuvenate them was a blessing. But it was also their greatest weakness. But Graziella thought he was a big boy and he wanted so much to comfort her. And how could he have told of his fear of day without having to explain himself.

"It's only darkness, Graziella. Surely you can leave your bedside lamp on," he advised.

"That doesn't help. Praying doesn't help either. I still get scared whenever a beam cracks. Or... or at other noises. It's not the dark. The dark doesn't bother me. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here with you."

Nashville figured as much. But what else would she be afraid of? In her house with the locked doors. From burglars? Nashville might be able to convince Lexington and Broadway - somehow - to patrol Graziella's house more often. Could she maybe give him a hint of what the adults should be keeping an eye out for then?

"What are you afraid of, Graziella?"

"You'll think I'm stupid," she said sadly.

"No, I won't. You come from a small village and now you're in New York. That can be scary. But no matter what you've heard, quite a lot of people live here and they've never had burglars come into their homes."

"It's not about burglars."

"Then what is it about? What are you afraid of?"

"Of gargoyles," she whispered softly, and Nashville froze. Despite the evening warmth, a cold shiver crept up his spine, even over the skin of his wings.

"Of Gargoyles," he repeated tonelessly after a few seconds, his own voice sounding alien and detached from his body.

"Yes," the human girl said in her tube, sniffling. Her voice was little more than a whimper.

"I saw the demonstrations. Last week. And people were handing out flyers and they said they were everywhere. Gargoyles- i mean. And there was a picture of one on it and he looked all creepy."

"Creepy," Nashville echoed, hastily wiping away the tear that flowed down his cheek.

"Yeah. What if those gargoyles find out I'm always alone in this big house at night? What if they get me out of my bed? And eat me up?"

"They would never do that!" barked Nashville, jumping up so that he almost hit his head on the ceiling of his tube. He had to struggle to sit back down and calm himself.

"Please don't be mad at me!" cried Graziella, completely misinterpreting his outburst as her next sentence proved, fearfully shrill and quietly uttered like any sentence with that theme. "You thought I was brave and now you're mad at me for not being. You must think I'm a baby. But Alessio, the stupid son of Francesca said gargoyles eat little girls. And the woman at the demonstration with her creepy hood said they take kids out of houses."

Nashville puffed and rubbed his horns in frustration, which he had nearly broken off when he jumped up just now. He had to keep reminding himself that she didn't know who he really was. Didn't know what he was. And he had also seen these demonstrations because they also took place in the evening. How could he be angry with her if she believed the lies of these idiots. She was a child. And the Quarrymen caused fear of gargoyles even in apparently smart adults.

"These people ... are idiots. So are the Quarrymen and that Alessio. Gargoyles would never break into your house, take you and eat you, Graziella" he said, wishing so much to be able to appear before her to prove to her that gargoyles were different from what she believed. But just showing up in front of her would not improve anything. Because he looked like a monster after all. And people were afraid of everything that looked SO different. But he didn't want Graziella to be afraid. Not because of him. Not because of Gargoyles. Yes, Goliath looked pretty scary on those stupid posters. But those who knew him knew he was wise and gentle. Mild-mannered to those who were worthy of that gentleness.

"Are we still friends now?" the girl below him asked in a voice as quiet as a mouse - now not out of fear of Gargoyles but out of fear that he might turn away from her because she was afraid of Gargoyles. How could he not be her friend? He loved her ... like a ... like a little sister, probably.

"Of course we are still friends," he assured her with tenderness in his voice. "But Gargoyles are not like those stupid Quarrymen say. They are either very mean, very stupid or very scared people who also want to scare you into agreeing with them. But that's not why they're right."

"How do you know?"

"Because - because gargoyles-". He took a deep breath and shook his head. "I've seen gargoyles before."

"Really?" he heard from the lower tube, and the tone was so awestruck that Nashville had to grin even though tears were still in his eyes.

"Of course. I've been living here for a while. And as you can see, I have no problem walking around town at night."

"And ... were you afraid?"

"No. Because gargoyles aren't monsters."

"But they look scary."

"It's not how someone looks that makes you a monster - it's how someona acts. Do you understand that, Graziella?"

Briefly, his unseen counterpart seemed to ponder this. Then she made a confirming sound. "Yes, I think I do."

"What were those gargoyles like?" she asked a little louder and more confidently now, at which Nachville's anger and sadness almost faded away. He snorted. How could he explain to a human child what gargoyles were like?

"The gargoyles I've seen," he muttered "-one was a slender red one with a big beak, long flowing hair and an eye patch like a pirate. He was the leader because he told the others what to do."

"They spoke?"

"Yes - they can speak. Very well, in fact. Like you ... and me."

"Was there only the red pirate?"

"There was another - a purple woman. She also had wings and claws and fangs but her voice was soft and soothing and no monster in the world can play that. Her name was Angela."

"That means angel in Italian!" gushed Graziella- obviously thrilled that there were girl-gargoyles, too.

"Yes! And that was fitting. Then there was a smaller gargoyle. He didn't have wings on his back like the others. But they stretched between his wrists and thighs. There were holes in his wings close to his body so that he could wear his loincloth, but even though they don't wear clothes like humans, you could see in his big eyes how intelligent and empathetic he was. He was nimble, smiled a lot and- and he carried around a computer."

"A computer? You're making that up now."

"A laptop! He must have been very smart!"

"Mhmmm," Graziella in her tube was silent, lost in thought. Nashville wondered if he should leave it at that. The laptop thing was already heavy stuff. But another urge was greater. The longing to be understood. Even if she didn't know who he was talking about.

"Then there was a fourth gargoyle," he whispered, as if that were the biggest secret.

"Yeah? What was he like?"

"He was ... he was the only gargoyle child."

"A child?"

"A boy not older than me," Nashville murmured. "He also had a beak and stubborn black hair, which I'm sure is petulant even when he lets his mother comb it through and she nags where he got that hair from."

Graziella chuckled softly and so did Nashville.

"The boy had a light blue skin color," he hurriedly continued. "Much too bright for him to glide around unnoticed in today's New York. That's why he wore dark clothes. He looked like a ninja. These are shadow warriors from Japan. And the boy had horns and wings like the red gargoyle and a Japanese short sword that I'm sure his father forbids him to carry outside the castle andand-"

"And what?" asked Graziella curiously, hanging on his lips though she didn't see them.

"And he was - lonely. That above all else. Well ... I can imagine that he was lonely."

"Why?"

"Because he was ... the only Gargoyle child. And certainly had no friends because everyone thought he was a monster. Because all human children were told that gargoyles would eat children. But surely-," Nash whispered and his voice almost sounded like he was about to cry (which wasn't true, of course, because he was a big boy) "-but surely just as many gargoyle parents tell their children scary stories about humans as human parents tell their children about gargoyles. And that's why the boy was afraid to look for friends. Afraid to step into the light. Because his life and the life of his clan depended on it."

At that moment his alarm clock rang again. Nash took a deep breath. The evening had been wonderful. But the last topic had really gotten to him.

"Graziella, I have to go now."

She did not answer.

"Graziella? Are you all right?"

"Yes," came her soft voice from beneath him.

"I, I thought your story was very ... it was very ... "

"Depressing?"

"Sad. I need to think about it."

"I didn't mean for you to be sad. I just ... wanted you to see that it's not just black and white. So- I guess."

"You're a big boy Nash. I'm sure you know that better than I do."

"You're just as smart as I am, Graziella. Only ... for some things you need others to make you think. Please don't be afraid tonight."

"Okay. I'll ... try."

Thanks for reading, Q.T.