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Brood of a New Age
38
"You didn't say anything about glowing eyes in your story about gargoyles".
"Because I wanted to scare you less. And not more."
"I think you need to tell me all the stories again. Without making up lies."
Nashville looked up from his hand on which Graziella had just sprayed disinfectant and knew he looked awfully stupid just then in his amazement. Graziella had just sounded like she wanted to stay his friend. As if she hadn't just come back because she was sorry she had hurt him. She didn't see how his gaze was on her, had lowered her head and was dabbing at his hand with a compress. She seemed calm and concentrated now.
"The stories about the other gargoyles. And the ones about your family members. Which of them were true?"
"Well- Lex doesn't drag a computer around with him all the time," he admitted, a little embarrassed, trying not to be mesmerized by the gorgeous vivid light reflections a nearby neon sign casted in her curly hair cascades.
"Lex?"
"The little green one. My Uncle Lexington."
Graziella grinned and looked up. He noticed she was missing a tooth but he knew that human children lost all their teeth little by little and grew new ones. But they could do that only once with each tooth. Gargoyle bodies could do it more often.
"And the purple gargoyle woman? Your mamma?"
Nashville shook his head in horror. "Oh man, that would make Broadway my dad!"
"Broadway?"
"My other uncle. A big turquoise guy with ears like that." Nashville put his hands to his ears and spread his fingers as wide as he could. It hurt because of the cut but Graziella's laugh was SO beautiful. A laugh he thought he would never hear again. And now she was sitting here with him.
She really had come back. Not a horde of Quarrymen. No angry human mob. Just her. With a large bag of bandages now scattered around her like the booty after a strange Halloween trick or treat operation. He had shed some of his clothing. His hands and feet were now unclothed and he thought his pale skin looked even more abnormal in this light.
Tebukuro, chikatabi even his tenugui scarf lay neatly folded beside him. Graziella had again disinfected the edge of his hand that had been cut by the knife with a spray bottle and then carefully dabbed off the last blood. It had hurt a bit but he had been able to distract himself by staring at Graziella the whole time. She looked so sweet as she brooded intently over his hand, careful not to touch his claws but also not to hurt him more. Now she was just finishing wrapping the gauze bandage around his hand and tying a knot. For a child who probably didn't have long experience tying her own shoes (but HE of course had even less experience) she did even more than that.
"There. Finished," Graziella said proudly, and Nashville raised his hand to his face.
"You made a ribbon," he murmured.
"Looks cute, doesn't it?"
"You're making fun of me, aren't you?"
"Can't I?" she asked, smiling toothily. So cute because of the missing tooth. Her lisp was cute, too.
"You're the only one who's allowed to do that," he said, hoping she didn't see him blush. The glow of the neon sign two houses away illuminated the flat roof but still it was dim at best. Enough that even a human could see everything but that colors were probably muted or distorted.
He stroked his fingers over the bandage and considered how to remove it without loosening the pretty bow. When he looked up, his eyes widened because Graziella was staring at him intently, almost grimly. She leaned a little to the side and he felt compelled to turn his head a little.
"What are you doing?" he asked insecurely.
"I'm looking at you," she said tersely.
"You're doing more than that," he said and his face, even his beak was all hot so uncomfortable was this staring.
"Can you blame me?" she said boldly, and honestly Nashville couldn't blame her. "You look so different from the gargoyle in the Quarrymen's pictures."
"We all look very different. That was a picture of Goliath. But not a very good one - otherwise he doesn't look so mean. Goliath is our leader."
"You have a leader?"
"Every clan has a leader."
"Is that like a family patriarch?"
"We're not all directly related. Well ... some via some corners are but ... a clan is a community that functions without a blood connection. Anyone who has proven to be a friend of the clan and to whom we feel a close bond can be a clan member."
"Just like my family," Graziella mumbled, and Nashville didn't know what to make of that statement, but also didn't want to get into it right now.
"Can you please stop staring at me like that? How would you feel if I stared at you like that?"
Graziella blinked and leaned back a little. Her smile was wonderfully perky.
"I'll make you a deal. I get two minutes of looking all around at you, and then you get two minutes."
"You're sassy," Nashville noted with a grin.
"I pick up on things here in America. Like swearing from my dad's coworkers. And my grandma's not around to scold. Does it bother you that I'm sassy?"
"No, I think it's pretty cool."
"So do we have a deal?"
She held out her hand. Nashville shook it - gently without claws.
"Deal. Two minutes each. But no more gawking after that."
"Okay." They both stood up but Graziella pulled him by his dark clothes farther to the edge of the roof where he was illuminated even more by the neon sign. She looked at his face now from left to right.
"Is the beak heavy? Does it feel funny? It is a beak, isn't it?"
"Oh, asking is part of the deal? Two for the price of one?" Nash commented dryly but dutifully gave information because he wanted Graziella to know as much as possible about him. Because he had learned - through the eras - that everything that was foreign to humans they automatically feared. Never again should Graziella be afraid of a gargoyle. Especially not of him.
"It's a beak. I was born with it, so I can't say if it feels strange to have one. And if it's heavy?... I think I have air chambers in the beak that make it lighter. My dad says gargoyles have air in their bones which makes us lighter when gliding but our bone structure is many times harder than humans. Lots of calcium and collagen in the bones," Nashville lectured, breaking off at that point because he was probably using words Graziella didn't know because of her age or the language barrier. She didn't seem to mind. He froze when she raised her hand and stroked his beak.
"Why is your beak the same color as your skin?"
"It-it's covered with skin. My dad says it's a little like the wax skin on bird beaks. Do you know wha-what that is?" he stottered awkwardly.
She shook her head. "Your dad knows a lot about that."
"He read a book about that once."
"But there aren't any books about gargoyles. "
Not yet Nash answered with his inner voice. Graziella's hand now passed over one of his horns, then over his stoic hair. Her small fingers brushed over his pointed ear. Goose bumps ran all over his body. Suddenly, she bent down.
"Your feet are SO big. And they're kind of funny." Her hand stroked the top of his foot. "Feels like leather seats," she murmured, and Nashville had to grin widely. This was SO weird. But somehow- he liked it.
"Your feet remind me of cats' hind legs" Graziella said as she stood up, not looking at him but walking around him. He could not say anything clever. The technical term for the special gait of gargoyles was on the tip of his tongue, but his head was full of Graziella. He felt her in his back.
"Everywhere you're gray you had to paint yourself to appear darker?"
"Exactly."
"Cool," Graziella whispered, and Nashville's chest puffed out. She thought he was cool. He had cried in front of her and she still thought he was cool. It didn't matter that it was because he was a gargoyle. That was actually better. There were tens of thousands of human boys in New York. But only one gargoyle boy. For the very first time, he was happy about this fact. Because he had no competitors.
"Will you spread your wings?" his friend asked, and Nashville couldn't help but tease her a little by unfurling his wings so fast and wide that he almost knocked her over.
"Oops," he said, smiling broadly.
"Hey!" she made but smiled too. And then she admired his wings. Now it took her much longer to walk around him. Probably her two minutes were already up. But who was counting? Graziella dove under his wings and giggled.
"You have like little hands up there on your wings. Can you move them?" Nashville looked up and waved his little claw hand at her.
"Ohhh," she exclaimed, and he couldn't help lowering his one wing, angling it and pinching her nose with that little "hand." She shrieked shrilly in surprise and giggled so hard that a grunt even escaped several times from between her hands folded over her mouth. Nashville loved that ridiculous grunt, so out of character for the sweet little girl. But like her sassy ways, it was part of her. All of it was Graziella. It was glorious. As if those quirky special parts of her somehow belonged to him. He hadn't noticed that she was standing behind him again, stroking the outer skin of his wings lengthwise. First one wing and then the othe-
"Ahhhh!" Nash shrieked, falling forward as fingertips danced on the skin of his back between his wings.
"What?" asked Graziella, startled, and was immediately beside him. Nashville looked at her from wide eyes.
"Did I hurt you?"
He shook his head, not knowing just now what color skin he had taken on so much blood was suddenly on his face. He gasped for air and tried to get his racing blood under control. Something like this had never happened to him before. Was it because of her that he had such a reaction for the first time?
"Please..." he said softly. "Please don't touch me there anymore. That's where we're sensitive." Graziella's gaze briefly showed confusion. But then she nodded.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."
She rose and so did Nashville. He would leave it at that. It hadn't hurt, of course. But HOW it had felt he couldn't tell her either. He would never be able to tell her. Briefly he remembered the TALK with Goliath but he couldn't think of such a thing now.
"Your two minutes are up," he said instead.
"Oh okay," the girl mumbled, a little disappointed. But then she smiled again. "Now it is your turn," she said and although she said it in a normal and benign way, the blood rushed to his face (again!) and he hoped for the umpteenth time that she didn't see it. Why was everything embarrassing around her? Why, the longer he was near her and he looked at her and she looked at him, did he act more stupid and ridiculous, although he wanted to be cooler and more mature? He suddenly couldn't bear to look her in the face and therefore lowered his head. Say something, he ordered himself. Say something that didn't sound totally braindead.
"Your feet are tiny," he heard himself say and would have liked to stomp on his own tail for that.
But Graziella sat down on the ground, took off her sneakers and thin socks. He crouched down next to her and watched wide-eyed as she wiggled her tiny toes like Ariel the Mermaid in the Disney movie. The difference between his feet and hers was really absurd!
"How can you humans live without claws?" he wondered aloud.
"We don't need them," Graziella said. "And our shoes wouldn't fit anymore."
"True," he admitted, and when he looked up, he realized she was glancing at his feet. Not staring, though, but thoughtful. Maybe even sad. He raised his arm and - not without hesitating a little before touching her of his own accord - he put a hand on her delicate arm.
"What is it, Graziella?"
"I wish I'd had claws earlier. Like you. Then those evil men wouldn't have been able to push me around. You were right about me being stupid walking around in Manhattan alone at night." She sniffled loudly and Nash got even braver and stroked her head - her gorgeous hair that he had wanted to touch since he first saw her. And how soft it was! His was like straw. Hers like silk. But he could not lose himself in the feeling and in the happiness that she tolerated his caress.
"Graziella, that's not true. I saw how brave you were."
"Messing with three mean bad guys is not brave. "
Nashville faltered, shutting the beak that had just tried to contradict her again. Then he shrugged.
"Well, okay. You're right. That was stupid. But the way you talked to them - like they were garbage. Which they are. And you kicked one of them! That was cool."
"Really?"
"Most adults wouldn't have the guts to do that. That was the coolest thing I've ever seen! You're the coolest girl in all of New York!"
Now Nashville - and quite clearly, too - saw Graziella blushing.
"I'm not a doll," she stated with her head proudly raised and smiling regally.
"No, you're not," Nashville confirmed just as proudly though he didn't know what he was proud of.
She grinned gratefully at him again, this time with her lips parted, and he couldn't keep his gaze from falling on the gap between her teeth.
She noticed it, too. And apparently she thought it was a continuation of their two-minute deal because she opened her mouth wide. At least as wide as she could open her teeny tiny human mouth. Briefly Nash was disappointed that the moment he had been able to touch Graziella's hair was already over, but he now saw another opportunity. Hesitantly, he lifted his hand to her chin and put his fingers on it to turn her face more into the light - although he could already see excellently without it. She had many teeth, but they were all so stumpy and small. Nashville found that kind of...worrisome.
"Iwangdogeeyourchdoo," she gurgled in a funny way but surprised Nash because she let her mouth snap shut and now without shyness put her hands on his lower beak, which she might have thought was his chin.
"What?" he asked.
"I want to see yours, too," she repeated, trying to open his beak. He grabbed her wrists and tried to stop her. Immediately she almost threw herself at him, putting on a grim snarl which would have been a credit to any gargoyle but it was almost devilish gleeful because of his rejection and shyness,
"Come on," she urged.
"'Don't wanna!"
"Why not? Just open your mouth wide! Or I'll make you!"
He arched his back as suddenly small fingers slid under his shirt and Graziella launched a tickle attack like Nashville had never experienced one before. Gargoyles could tickle each other too. But not like this! Not so aimed and roughly at the same time. The fingers and small nails assaulted his skin and everything inside him spasmed and cringed at the same time so unbearable and delicious in one was this feeling. Nashville tore open his beak and laughed out loud. Gasping for air, laughing almost continuously a mixture of children's laughter and pterodactyl screeching and Graziella also laughed puerilely and mischievously at the same time.
He couldn't help himself. He couldn't pull the light but struggling girl away from him because he was afraid his claws might scratch her. And he couldn't drag her off him with his tail or wipe her aside with a powerful flap of his wings for fear his strength might hurt her. Much like the good-natured pit bull who didn't want to hurt the kitten that was so playfully torturing him, he couldn't counter her. And so he had no choice but to turn his head away from her and plead bitterly between laughs and yips.
"No! Hahahaha. Help! I don't want to! Hahhahaha, stop it. Ewww! I'm not a PEZ dispenser! Hahahaha, that tickles! Heeeeelp!"
Suddenly, a deep male voice - a very angry male voice - sounded through the canyon of houses to their left.
"Shut up, you batty kids! People want to sleep here who also have to work on Saturdays! I'm about to call the fuzz!"
Graziella and Nashville froze at the same time, staring wordlessly at each other- waiting for the inevitable cries for Quarrymen. But nothing came. And after three seconds - after which it was clear that the nagging man had heard Nashville's cries for help but had not seen who or WHAT was screaming - the children began to giggle. Graziella rolled off Nashville and both were now doubled over laughing on the dirty rooftop surface. Until Nashville was really out of breath and everything hurt as if his mother had driven him through a training session with his BokutÅ.
"Phuuu. When you want something, you're really merciless. That was fierce." He groaned out.
"Did I hurt you?" the little kid asked, and the gargoyle rubbed his aching ribs thoughtfully, grinning at the question. The previous constant state of tension around her (also triggered by Goliath's educational sex and onanism talk) that he had felt was virtually obliterated by their tussle. It was as if the children had somehow, without consciously doing so, established boundaries and commitments in their friendship without thinking about tomorrow. It made him feel safe.
"Nah. Of course not," he lied, because he was pretty sure his diaphragm and the muscles he'd just overworked would be aching like hell until sunrise.
"But the bad guys can never know that all they have to do is tickle us to get away. Then no one would ever take us seriously again. Although I don't think anyone would dare tickle my dad. Or Goliath. Except maybe Elisa." Nashville snickered softly at the thought. Graziella, meanwhile, had turned to face him, her arm under her head as she lay on the filthy roofing felt as if it were a comfortable bed.
"Which bad guys Nashville?" she inquired, whispering as if they were now talking about secrets.
Gargoyles who lived near or with humans have always learned to show more human postures and gestures when near them. Like not scratching behind the ear with the hind leg (as gargoyle-children and web-wings did most easily) but using the claws of the hand. Even more, Gargoyles often mimicked human postures consciously. Humans among themselves automatically felt more comfortable. A gargoyle usually did not even dream that humans felt comfortable with him. They imitated human movement patterns in order not to repel them even more and make them more hostile. And so it was natural - even automatic - for Nashville to mirror Graziella's posture when he turned to her and said softly:
"Burglars. Robbers. People who hurt others. Lone evildoers or entire criminal organizations - we fight them. It's our job. We look out for the weak. We protect them as best we can."
"You're good at that protecting thing," the child whispered as insistently as he, her other hand tracing over his arm until her small fingers closed around his index finger. A feeling of blissful warmth poured over Nashville because of praise and touch as he closed his hand around hers. And it got even better.
"You are like superheroes. You're my hero, Nashville," his best friend said, and now it was her turn to blush and lower her eyes. And as much as the young gargoyle would have liked to lean back in that moment, he couldn't.
"We're not heroes, Graziella. We are just ... people trying to do the right thing."
"You don't want to be heroes. But you act like you are. And that's the most important thing."
"... Yeah... I guess people need ... people to act like heroes," Nashville mumbled, embarrassed by the confidence with which the girl spoke where he was full of insecurities. He had never thought much about what his clan, and therefore he, was doing. Of course, he knew Hudson's and Goliath's speeches by heart. And he couldn't hear his father's rules anymore, they sounded so hackneyed. But he had never thought much about what their actions did to the humans they helped. Probably because it hurt everyone to think about it at first glance. After all, 90 percent of the people always ran away screaming for help. Or fainted. Or attacked them themselves, screaming monsters and other cruelties at them. But for the first time, Nash had a person in front of him who could stand to be near him long enough after a rescue to show true gratitude.
"What are you thinking about, Nash?" asked Graziella.
"About our code," he admitted, and the child's questioning expression was followed by the explanation.
"Hudson ... he is our clan elder, something like my grandpa, always says `A Gargoyle can no more stop protecting the castle than breathing the air`. And for us, all of Manhattan is our castle. We don't even think about it. It's ... our nature to protect and help."
"I wish humans were like that."
"So do I," he admitted. For a few moments the children looked into each other's eyes, his jet black and hers so deep and pleasantly brown that Nashville felt a strange, somehow archaic sense of security and attachment, and the boy was about to bring his hand to her face when the alarm on his wristwatch struck again. Growling in annoyance, he sat up and turned it off.
"Two hours like that go by fast," Graziella said as she sat up as well and let him help her to her feet with a gentle gesture. She scraped all the remaining bandages and empty packs back into her bag.
"Mmm," was all Nash made as he bent down to pull his dark clothes back over his arms and legs. That was all he could say. Because he didn't know how to finish this evening, which for him would be the most wonderful in many ways but the most painful of his life, especially because of the ending. But the girl had other plans while she patted her clothes, which were quite dirty due to the last two hours.
"So. I'll see you Sunday then?"
He looked up in surprise. "Huh?"
"Or Monday? Either is fine with me."
"You want to keep seeing me?"
The little girl looked at him as if hit on the head. That was the first time she had ever had that expression. After that, she seemed almost offended.
"Did you think for the last two hours that we would never see each other again after this evening?"
"But ... you were so afraid of me."
"Yes," she admitted gravely, making Nashville's ears and wings droop. Then she flashed that cheeky smile again. "But I'm not scared anymore. You were scary for me. It wasn't real. It was like ... acting."
The ice-blue boy shook his head sadly. He wanted to agree with her the most. But he couldn't lie to her. "That wasn't acting, Graziella. That in the alley-that was me. My rage. My glowing eyes. My shrieking. Gargoyles are often like that."
"But you were there for me. You were -" She shook her head, seeming at a loss for what to say over his insecurities. "You're my best friend. And my hero. Only after that, you're a gargoyle. Are you coming Monday now?"
"But ... I can never be like other boys."
Graziella's bell-bright laughter echoed over the rooftop into the night, and Nashville looked up because the kid had now approached him.
"Aw, Nash. You're really dumb. You're lucky I like the dumb and cool boys."
She put both hands on his shoulders and kissed him on the beak.
He felt her tender soft lips on the skin there and everything in him became tense while he thought that this was now his end. His heart stopped ... and he was sure that it would never start beating again. But a second later Graziella leaned back again and said:"Monday night. Right here?"
"Okay," he squeaked. The girl grinned broadly, turned around, and he waited, frozen, until the clanging sounds as she hopped down the fire escape steps had faded. Stunned, he slowly turned around. Stumbled to the edge of the roof, toppled over it. Thank God the last thinking instinctual fiber in him remembered that he had wings and had to open them. Only three meters above the sidewalk populated by revellers, an updraft caught him. People who saw the gray bat-like shadow, heard the beating of its wings, or even felt the powerful breeze from it cried out, ducked, and pointed upward at this newest gargoyle sighting. They would talk for a long time about the primeval cry, which many compared to the jubilant exclamation of a happy child.
.
.
Nashville had no idea how he made it back to the castle. He scurried into his room unnoticed, dropped onto his bed on his stomach, then grabbed his pillow and pressed it to his face while he screamed into it. He yelled, gasped for air, yelled into the pillow again. Until most of that pent-up, rambunctious energy was out of him. Still, he slammed his legs and feet on his mattress a dozen times because he just couldn't believe it. He startled when someone nudged him from the side. When he lifted his head from the pillow, Fu Dog blew a hot stinky gush of air in his face and whined with worry. He had left the door open and his stifled cries of delight must have drawn the beast, who took her guardian duties to Egg and Castle much more seriously than he did. He sat up and grabbed Fu's mane left and right, tousling her so that she let her tongue hang out of her mouth, contentedly participating in his happiness.
"Can you believe it?!" he asked the beast looking at him from pupil-less eyes. "Can you believe it!? I have a girlfriend! A human best friend! And she knows what I am and is still MY friend! And she kissed me!"
Nashville looked up without really looking anywhere.
"She kissed me! The coolest girl in New York kissed me," he murmured as if only now realizing to himself what had happened. Fu Dog jumped onto his bed - which she wasn't allowed to do. And wanted to lick his face. Nash pushed the female beast away.
"Nonono-" he grunted under her weight. "Graziella kissed me. I don't need your dog slobber right now!" Briefly he thought about whether it was possible to never wash his beak again. But then he would first get into trouble with his parents and secondly it would reduce the chances that Graziella would kiss him again. At the thought, he had to grab the pillow again to roar into it, making Fu jump on him to cure her young master from his unaccustomed madness with 300 pound of watchbeast.
Thanks for reading, Q.T.