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Brood of a New Age

70.

Maria stood in the sunlit conservatory with the sledgehammer. Even as a statue, this Mister Dante looked menacing. His wings spread, his hands stretched out threateningly, his claws bared as well as his fangs in his open beak. How strange that even his tailored suit was petrified. This thing was one big threat.

The handle of the hammer was already sweaty because she had gripped it so tightly but had not been able to move for ten minutes to do what she had to do.

"Maria?"

She whirled around and saw Graziella standing in the doorway rubbing her eyes. She had Grigio in her arms, still wearing her summer pajamas. Short shorts and a tank top with a horse on it. She had just woken up - but the grogginess of the early morning hours seemed all but gone. Her eyes fell on the statue and she blinked as if she had to remember what had happened before sunrise. Then she saw the hammer in Maria's hand and gasped.

In response to the child's horrified look, she lowered the hammer.

"He is dangerous to have it in the house," Maria defended herself.

Graziella came to her and wrapped her arms around her waist. "Don't hurt him. He's certainly not dangerous to us."

"I wouldn't hurt him. He's a statue right now and wouldn't feel a thing."

"He wouldn't wake up if you broke him, though," the child said, her voice sounding like she was about to cry. And indeed, as she lifted her head, tears shone in her eyes. "He would be dead like my Mamma and Nonna. Please don't make him dead. I'm sure he's nice." Maria settled down even though she knew her knees would crack painfully when she came back up, put down the hammer and wrapped her arms around the girl.

"Oh my dear child. How can anyone have as good a heart as you?"

"Besides, he works for Tony. You can't break him. You will get in trouble. Maybe-," Graziella argued softly. "Maybe it's good to have a gargoyle in the house. Gargoyles protect. If bad men come into the house he will protect us."

Maria had to laugh at this. She wished the purity and innocence would never leave Graziella and yet she knew with painful clarity that it would. They both raised their heads and looked at the statue.

"He looks creepy doesn't he?" asked Maria.

Graziella smiled.

"He only looks that way because he wants to look that way." She broke away from Maria and wandered over to Dante's statue. Like last night when he was flesh, she put a hand on his beak, which was now more angular because of the stone cover.

"He's all toasty," the girl said.

"That's because the sun is shining on it - on him," Maria returned, approaching the statue much more cautiously than the child, who was circling the inanimate object as if it were an exhibit in a museum.

"I've never seen a petrified gargoyle before," she murmured with childlike astonishment, stroking its wings, even poking it between the wings where a strip of cloth ran that also covered the skin there and was fastened midway with Velcro, which was also petrified into a single mass.

"You've never seen a gargoyle," Maria corrected her, and in turn poked the statue in one of its open "eyes". Graziella didn't answer, only a peculiarly knowing smile curled her lips as she fingered the stone braid that hung over Dante's shoulder.

"What are you making for us to eat tonight?" she asked.

Mary looked at her repulsed.

"You're not going to eat with him!"

"Why not? He eats normal things."

"First of all, because you eat two hours before sunset."

"I can eat later."

"Graziella Dracon. That gargoyle," Maria tapped him on the shoulder that her knuckles hurt. "This guy is not your friend or your new playmate. Even if he wasn't an adult, he's not human."

Graziella's expression darkened. She pushed her lower lip forward and glared at Maria.

"I know he's not my friend. But he is not our enemy either. Why are you being mean to him when he hasn't done anything to you yet? You're being unfair."

Maria's anger fizzled out under this truth. She expelled the air, puffing.

"Yes. That's right. I just don't feel safe with him coming in and out of here. He has claws and fangs. And even during the day, I can't even lay on the couch here for an hour without seeing his dead staring eyes."

Graziella looked up at the statue. Then she smiled at Maria and walked straight out of the room. Not a minute later she came back. With a pink My Little Pony blanket. The child shook the blanket and threw it over the statue, covering the whole upper body.

Maria laughed out loud and laughed even louder as Graziella looked at her superiorly and glibly.

"Now he won't look at you. We just have to take the blanket off before sundown. Otherwise he'll be miffed, I'm sure."

"I'm sure he would be!" said Maria exuberantly, kissing her smart, sassy girl before taking the hammer, which would disappear back into one of the garages in the yard. "Come on now, I'll make you a whole stack of pancakes before your driver takes you to Hoboken."

"Are you making enough for Dante, too?"

"MISTER Dante. Yes, I make enough for him, too," Maria sighed.

.

.

The first jobs under Tony Dracon had been a cinch. On the first night, Tony had introduced him to his boys, who had all - but as respectfully as possible - attested to his madness. His new boss had just laughed. Dante had then demonstrated his shooting and knifing skills by wrecking one of Yingpei's illegal casinos, along with all of its employees. Whereupon Tony, like the alpha male who sniffs at the prey presented to him after other pack members have slain it, had come into the dive and strutted around like a little king. His boys had shown themselves both horrified and impressed by their new "colleague" - a good combination in Dante's estimation. Tony - perhaps not wanting to increase his beef with this Uncle Dino - had not yet ordered him to kill anyone from the other syndicates, and that was fine with Dante. He didn't want to break his promise to Grace before it was absolutely necessary. The next few nights had also been used for Dante to connect with members of the Dracon clan or terrorize members of other syndicates (now with Tony behind him so everyone could see that the rumor about gargoyles acting for Dracon was true). It was his fourth night at the mansion, though he had already picked up his clothes on the first (scaring the crap out of Miller's stupid son and having to knock him out). In a small room on the second floor his few possessions were stored, the conservatory he really only used to sleep (though the girl probably hadn't realized how he slept, because he had found a pink blanket on the couch in the conservatory when he woke up after the first day - which Dante thought was pretty sweet.)

The child was the most interesting anyway. Graziella. Nashville's little friend. Daughter of an enemy of the clan. Although vows of love were part of his repertoire when he liked a girl, Dante wasn't much of a romantic. But even he knew Romeo and Juliet. But this wasn't the same, Dante admonished himself. They were both children - not lovers who knew what they were doing. How dangerous their friendship could be for everyone involved (and therefore for Dante himself).

Other than that sword of Damocles over his head, everything was to his satisfaction so far. As if he hadn't had such a threat at his back for decades because of Giuliano - it was a normal state of affairs rather than an exception, and didn't frighten Dante because mostly the luck of the fools had been on his side and he had always gotten out of the worst so far. He liked the place where Tony had placed him. Less good view than at the castle but definitely less annoying and alienating housemates. This housekeeper Maria was a dragon but she reminded him of his nanny from Italy precisely because she was a dragon. And by now he thought she loathed him a little less. Last night he had even found a note on the new coffee machine with foolproof instructions on how to make a cappuccino (presumably because he had broken the old machine on the first night.) Whereas her revulsion would quickly flare up again when she realized that Graziella spent a little time with him every night when she realized he was home even if she often seemed to be quite out of it and sometimes fell asleep in the middle of her started sentence and he had to carry her back to her room. She tried to have conversations with him but mostly they were silent together because Dante wasn't sure what he could or should say.

It wasn't until now that Dante found the bottle of Oxycontin, after almost sweeping the entire house after his work hours. The matter had not let him go. In Naples, the Della Marra syndicate itself had made good money with narcotics, heroin and cocaine, but his father had always warned him against taking it, even if the stone sleep would have prevented physical addictions. Nevertheless - the manufacturer or dispatcher was NEVER allowed to be his own customer. Giuliano had once pushed him face down into such a coke package when he'd been only fifteen (in gargoyle years) but the little stoned Hell-Spawn running amok that had torn up the whole house afterwards hadn't even been funny to his cousin. That's why he didn't find it entertaining when kids were on drugs.

Dante shook the white plastic box to guess how much was still in there. Oxycontin 40 mg. They made lower doses, too. 40 mg would be appropriate for him but not for a child who probably didn't weigh 30 kilos. It's a wonder she could still walk and fool the adults into thinking she would be loopy because of her children pain pills. What was wrong with Americans keeping the strong stuff within reach of children or near the kitchen? And how had she gotten the child lock on the cap off? Even he had trouble with it. Maybe, was the lock broken?

Dante put his hand on the latch and twisted. But he couldn't get it off. He growled in dissatisfaction.

"Do you need one?" He heard the child ask behind him and turned around in the dark chamber. There stood Graziella Dracon, drowsy but unimpressed by his eyes glowing in the dark, looking at him. The drug haze that had surrounded the child for several days and made her somewhat loopy was all but gone. The first night, her eyes had been barely bigger than pins - now they were almost normal. Dante had dismissed the idea that she had been drugged by the adults. She had told him that she had been in pain after the Times Squarre incident and had taken some of the adult pills because of it. Dante was outraged at the lax, careless control the girl was under, especially at night, and would liked to shove the truth into Maria's face. He didn't even know why he didn't. His helpful tip would perhaps mean more attention for the child. Probably he just didn't want to be a rat.

He turned on the light and Graziella backed away from it into the dark kitchen as if the brightness would cause her pain.

"Sorry," Dante muttered. Graziella held out her hand. "I'll give you one," she said.

"One what?"

"A pill. Or two. The cap is hard to get open - I'll help you."

Irritated, the gargoyle handed the little girl the can and after a few seconds she had it open and dropped two tablets into his extended paw. Then she wanted to take one herself and already had the pill at her lips when Dante grabbed her wrist that the tablet fell from her fingers and rolled away.

"Don't do that," he said. The girl looked at him with a mixture of 80 percent defiance and 20 percent desperation.

"It hurts," she said, and Dante let go of her like he'd burned himself on her.

But she hadn't meant her wrist.

"Where does it hurt?" asked Dante, not liking the worried tone in his voice himself.

The child just shook her head.

Dante put his two pills in his pants pocket and put the can on the top shelf, where the girl couldn't reach even with the household ladder. Then he remembered what junkies were capable of and dropped the pack in his pants pocket as well.

"These things are way too strong," he said in response to Graziella's petrified face.

"They're just pain pills."

"No," Dante said. "They're just not just pain pills. It's drugs."

"Yes.- Drugs," Graziella said, and now Dante shook his head. The child had read the same or similar dictionaries than he had - some words were just confusing to foreigners.

"Drugs in American are often the same as medicines. But these drugs are opioids. They can harm your body. They can make you addicted and very sick," he tried to explain in child's language. "You're taking way too much. Haven't you noticed how gaga you are all the time?"

"But ..." the child said, kneading the front of her tank top "... if I don't take any it hurts so bad that the day after tomorrow I won't -."

She broke off the sentence and bit her lip.

"Is this about Nashville?" he asked quietly as if there were listening devices in the kitchen that could blow their cover with their shared secret.

The girl nodded.

Dante took her by the hand, lifted her up in the kitchen, put her on the plate of the kitchen island and filled a glass with water. He took one of the tablets from his pocket and with pointed claws broke off a quarter of it.

"That will be more than enough." He wanted to put it in her hand but the child opened her mouth. How can this child be so comfortable with someone like me, thought Dante as with a fluttering heart he placed the sliver of pill in her little mouth and then gave her the glass of water.

"Drink it up," he ordered grumpily, and it was strange - almost disturbing to him - how little the role of child-sitter made him uncomfortable. Maybe it was in his DNA after all.

"Nashville's important to you, huh?" he asked, leaning his elbows on the kitchen island. Only the light from the open utility closet illuminated the surroundings but he got the impression that was enough for them both. Graziella smiled at him as she took the glass from her lips and Dante knew that smile was not for him.

"He's my best friend," she whispered and he nodded.

"Friends are good," the gargoyle admitted.

"Where are your friends?" asked Graziella.

"My friends?"

"Why aren't you with the other gargoyles?" she concretized.

Dante scratched his head. Friends. Fiore Della Marra and friends.

But the child looked at him completely seriously.

He sighed and simply told her the truth.

"I was with the others for a few weeks. But we didn't get along very well."

"Not even with Nashville?"

"He ... was okay," Dante admitted. Nashville was a rat-eater, too. But he had grown up that way and didn't know what kind of sick perverted shit it was to consider something like that as food. But it wasn't just about their eating habits, of course. It was just everything. Each little reason individually not enough to know that he did not belong to them and never would. But all together were enough.

"Maybe you'll make friends here," the kid said, putting a hand on his. Expressionless he looked down at her little hand on his paw.

"I'm not here to make friends. I work for your dad," he mumbled.

The child seemed to think for a moment. Then she looked at him again and smiled.

"Maybe you can talk the other gargoyles into working for my daddy. Then Nashville and I could spend time together more often without having to lie to everyone, and we could meet and play here where it's safe. Nash and I could be your friends."

Dante gasped to laugh out loud and let his beak snap shut again when he saw her eyes.

Damn, he thought. She didn't know. She didn't know who her dad was or what he did. Then Nashville didn't know either. Nobody knew anything here.

"I can't. You can't." He pulled his braid forward and kneaded it uncertainly. "The others would never work for Tony,' he said then.

"But you work for him. He has no problem with gargoyles," Graziella said precociously, yet full of incomprehension.

"That's right. He has no problem with gargoyles. But only if they are gargoyles who share the same attitude as he does. The others don't."

"What attitude?"

Dante puffed in unnerved frustration. Surely he couldn't tell a child that her father was a mob boss! The bad guy. The one people warned other kids about. With a horde of lawless, bloodthirsty Minions devoted to him, of which he himself was now one. And then maybe she would blurt it out to Nashville and somehow his clan would find out and then the kids wouldn't be allowed to see each other anymore. But Dante had seen how they had clung to each other last weekend. Literally, they had hung on each other. They needed each other. Fuck, when had his life gotten so difficult?

"Maybe we can convince them," the girl probed further.

"We can't. You can't and I can't. The industries your dad works in and the things the other gargoyles do are too different for that."

Graziella's smile disappeared.

"I don't even know what Tony works. No one tells me because they think I'm stupid. Maria said he works in many businesses. Do you think none is okay for the other gargoyles?"

"None is okay. I'm sure of it," he said. Again they were silent together but a dark cloud hung over both of them.

"Dante?" the child then said.

"Yes, Graziella?"

"The others may not have liked you. But I think you're nice and I'm sure you'll make friends soon."

The Italo mobster laughed somberly and mirthlessly.

"No one who knows me would describe me as nice."

"Then the others are blind and stupid," Graziella said, leaning in, kissing him on the cheek and sliding off the kitchen counter with a groan.

"I'm going to bed," she said, and before she disappeared she added, "Don't tell Nash I kissed you. Americans are a little funny about that when you're not related."

"You got it, boss," Dante said, nodding understandingly, and turned to the coffee machine. Surely he would feel better with a cappuccino.

Fun fact: I noticed that in the last chapter when Dante introduces himself to Graziella, she says "Thanks" and her father corrects her with "Dante":

This would have made much more sense in German because in German Thank you means "Danke" - a very similar word to "Dante" and pronounced almost similarly in German. Small inconsistencies between two languages.

Just like in the third chapter where Grace and Dante are locked in the wooden box and Dante says "Look around - we are in the second class."

In German, that would have been really funny because the original sentence was: "We're flying wood class."

Wood Class (Holzklasse) is the worst and cheapest class to fly in, but the two gargoyles were really surrounded by wood - well, that didn't come across with Second Class. Too bad sometimes.

Thanks for reading, Q.T.