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Brood of a New Age

62.

Nashville landed in front of the large bird aviaries at the Bronx Zoo. Thanks to the warm weather of the days before, there was hardly anything left of the heavy thunderstorm, and only a few puddles remained on the paths. And so Nash was able to set Graziella down with dry feet. His bare feet and her shoes creaked unpleasantly on the gravel and insecure the young gargoyle glanced around and sniffed for signs of danger aka other humans.

But everything looked okay. Long after visiting hours and long after even the zookeepers had left, all the lanterns had been turned off and the area was absolutely dark despite the diffused lights from the surrounding buildings. Nashville could see very well and to his relief Graziella fished a small flashlight out of her pocket. And let the beam wander over the surrounding terrain.

"Why are we here?" he asked. "What injustice could be lurking here?"

"It's everywhere," Graziella replied, sounding genuinely reproachful that he didn't see it.

"I still don't get it," he confessed. Graziella climbed over the wooden fencing of the large bird aviaries and Nash dove underneath.

"That's the bad thing. You see that?"

She shined a light into one of the enclosures. Nash shrank back because the eyes of a large eagle owl shone like two gold coins in the glow of the light beam. Moreover, the nocturnal bird had turned its head 180 degrees questioningly and looked quite absurd with it.

"The birds? What about them?"

"The captured birds," the girl, who was not even half his age, corrected him, answering at the same time what was with them.

Graziella plucked at one of the tension wires that served as a fence to keep the birds from escaping. The wire was so tight and taut that it sounded like a dull vibrating gigantic instrument string when she let go. Instantly, fluttering and screeching could be heard from the other enclosures lying in the dark. The animals were used to the sound of voices. Not to the sound of someone tugging at their "prison bars." The sound sounded to them like menace and liberation at the same time. And both were equally frightening.

"We're freeing the birds," Graziella said with determination.

Nashville stared at her. He was glad she hadn't led him to an injustice where she was in danger, but he wouldn't have dreamed of this. He didn't even understand this mission.

"Why are we freeing the birds?" he asked, and when she whirled around and glared at him, he ducked his head a bit - a submissive reaction he usually only had with loud adults. But Graziella was pretty threatening in her own way when she was mad. Threatening and somehow sweet .

"'They don't belong behind bars!" she shouted outraged at his obtuseness. "They have wings. Big, healthy wings and they're locked in cages all their lives! People pay to look at them, gawk at them every day. Don't you see how bad that is? That's mean. That's disgusting."

Nashville took a deep breath. And automatically Graziella did the same though her eyes still had that wild gleam.

"Okay," Nash said, and while he didn't want to be like his father, he did try to find words that matched up with his diplomatic streak. "It's not nice for humans to cage animals. But the zoo bought these animals. Or they raised them and ... bred them, I think they call it. They own the animals. If we let them out, that would be theft. Like really big theft, not just stealing some food that's not going to be sold anyway. Gargoyles don't do that."

"Gargoyles help the helpless. The animals here are helpless," the human child said quietly, now more sad than angry.

"We can't free the animals either, because some of them would be a danger to humans."

"Then ... then we just free the birds here. Please Nash. You can easily cut the cables with your claws."

Nashville thoughtfully stroked his fingers over the wire, which consisted of a lot of thin metal threads twisted together. Yes, they would be no problem for his claws. But still.

"I'm not comfortable with this, Graziella." When he turned back to her she was standing in front of the next enclosure just looking dispirited. Her eyes were moist but her voice sounded toneless, tired and somehow old.

"You're right. It was a stupid idea. A stupid kid idea. I just thought ... I was here two weeks ago or so. And I was thinking about gargoyles and how they would feel if they were in cages. And after I learned that you're a gargoyle, that gargoyles are awesome and cool and sweet but that most people want to hurt you or cage you. Over and over again, the birds came back to me. They have wings like you. They should be free and happy like you. Or at least have the chance to do so. That would be better than looking at walls and stupid people all their lives. All their lives until they die and I can't do anything. Cause I'm just a stupid kid and I feel trapped myself so often and -"

She winced as one of the wires next to her snapped with the sound of a broken spring. Puzzled, she looked at the loose ends curling at the top and bottom of the cage's perimeter. Then at Nashville who gave her a sheepish look with his pointed claw bared.

"Was easy enough. Let's do it," he said.

Any iniquity would have been turned to divine justice by her smile.

.

.

Nashville rubbed his claws. He was done, though. He had done it. Cutting what felt like a hundred metal wires wasn't easy, even for a gargoyle. His claws hurt quite a bit. And his wing where it had been cut by a whipping wire. Not enough to tear the leathery skin there and drive a hole in it but it was quite a scratch. He stretched his wing at Graziella's command and hissed as the burning sensation shot up his hide.

"I'm so sorry about that, Nash," Graziella said with her head low as if it was her fault. It was her idea, but he hadn't been paying attention.

"It's no big deal. Will heal easily by sunrise. I'll just tell the others I mhmmmm- the shower curtain in my bathroom is attached with a wire. I'll cut it, tell them I hurt myself on it. I'm sure I can get away with it," he assured her.

Both children turned around when they heard the beating of large wings. A long-necked vulture took off rather ponderously and slipped into the night. For their part, two hawks perched on the wooden railing and looked at the children. The big beautiful eagle owl further back tilted its head again with a thoughtful look at the mismatched duo that allowed it to take flight as if to judge whether this was just a trick. Then he puffed himself up impressively, turned his head and swung into the air, much more silently than the vulture just now but gliding so close over the ground that even gravel was stirred up. The hawks took off right after.

Graziella looked after the animals with a calm and serene expression, which made Nash know that he had not done a law-abiding work, but a good and right one. That which was lawful was not always fair. Graziella, in her childlike understanding of right and wrong, already knew that better than he did. And he loved her all the more for that.

At the thought, at this word that he was consciously forming in his mind for the first time, he felt hot all over. Was that it? Was that love? They were children. He was a child. He didn't know what love meant between a boy and a girl. He loved his mom and his dad (somehow) and everyone in the clan in a slightly different way but his feelings for Graziella were different. He loved ice cream and action movies and gliding and the taste when the first drops of blood from a fresh little animal dripped onto his tongue. But none of that compared to what he felt when he was around this being who was so much more than "just a girl" or "just a human." If he was right now discovering an entirely new kind of "love", this was the best one so far. One for which he would have given up ice, movies, fresh animals, and yes, maybe even gliding forever. He was about to say something simply to hear her answer to whatever when he heard a flap of wings. Nash froze as he suddenly felt a weight of perhaps three pounds settle on his shoulder and sharp claws dig into the thick fabric of his clothing. His heart pounded up to his throat.

"Graziella," he whispered stiff as a board, hardly daring to breathe. And when she turned around, her eyes got huge.

"What's sitting on my shoulder?" he asked tonelessly. She smiled almost manically.

"I think it's a ... a ferruginous buzzard. Don't move, he's so beautiful, Nash." She chuckled softly. "Maybe he wants to thank you."

"Maybe he thinks I'm a relative," Nashville muttered, trying to sound cool though his voice was shriller than usual. HE usually ate birds, after all. Right now he seriously hoped his ear wouldn't look like a tasty worm or something. Or if the animal pecked his eye out? Then he would really look like his dad! The animal emitted a sound somewhere between cooing and broken chirping, which did make him flinch. The bird screeched kind of offended, spread its wings with Nash getting a few wing flaps to the face, which felt like someone was spanking him with a feather duster, then the bird was gone. He felt all weird but decided it was a good weird when he felt Graziella on his arm. She hooked onto him and put her head in the crook of his neck.

"You did good, Nash," he heard her say gratefully. But he wouldn't have done anything at all without her courage and her righteous heart that justified even breaking the law, the gargoyle boy knew. He dared to raise his hand to her face and run a claw across her cheek. She was not startled, not disgusted, she accepted the touch as if it had not come from a monster.

"We did good," he admitted, believing it himself. "It was the right thing to do. People will see it differently but-"

"- what do they know? They're idiots."

"Exactly."

She clung to his neck and dangled over his back as he climbed up the side of the now increasingly empty aviaries of Birds of Prey. Then he took her in his arms, spreading his wings and gritting his teeth as his injured wing puffed up from the wind and they took off.

But they only got 50 yards before Nashville couldn't take it anymore.

"Arrrg," he cried as they lost altitude and swayed dangerously because his wing folded as if by reflex. Graziella clutched his head and screamed. They barely made it over the fences of the petting zoo before Nashville almost crash-landed. Screams from defenseless goats and other petting animals who thought they were near an injured but bloodthirsty predator reached Nashville's ears. He looked at Graziella who had slipped out of his arm the last half meter but had landed safely on both feet. She was obviously unharmed and that was the most important thing. But ... now they had a huge problem.

He rubbed his shoulder when he really meant his wing.

"This is not good," he muttered. Graziella came up to him and rubbed his arm, infinitely worried where she had just looked so pleased. He didn't want her to put on such an expression because of him. He felt helpless again - a sensation he had never had in Graziella's presence.

"How are we going to get to Manhattan now?" he asked the younger human child, not expecting to get an answer. But Graziella was silent for a few moments. He thought it was worry and infantile overwhelm as he felt it too. But in reality she was thinking. And for some reason he felt his stomach tie into a knot when after a few moments his dearest Sparrow showed a somehow devilish smile.

.

.

Nashville's heart was beating loudly although he was standing completely in the dark and none of the passers-by could see him. And he was hot. AND he felt sticky.

But Graziella was sure it would work. By all four points of the sky, he hoped she was right. His face itched and he already had his hand on his beak when Graziella slapped his fingers.

"Don't touch it. "

"But it itches. The glue itches."

"That's your disguise. Without it, everyone will see you're a gargoyle right away."

"How can you stand it? Isn't it itching you?"

"It does, but you can't be the only one walking around like that, it would be too suspicious.""

"I think we already look suspicious. And stupid."

"We're kids. Adults think we're stupid anyway. That's why this is the perfect cover."

She shot him a stop-whining-look and peered around the corner again to keep an eye out for the cab she'd called. He hoped one would come after a little girl's call. He hoped it was true what she had said, that the adults would not question their cover. Basically, it wasn't a disguise. It was simply his face with a lot of scraps of newspaper that Graziella had glued together and stuck ON his skin. She called it cartapesta and had said that in Italy they made "things" with it, although he had no idea what human children liked about scraps of newspaper that were moistened and glued together. Even his ears, claws and feet were covered with these layers and the crackling was driving him crazy.

He had wrapped his wings around his torso and now they and his tail were tucked into a thick sweater they had picked up at the zoo store. Graziella had left some money on the counter but they had broken in there and he felt bad because they had broken the lock without it being related to a crime. So ... it had been related to a crime. Their own. Graziella generally didn't seem to have a problem doing naughty things when it benefited her. But she did it for him. On her own, she didn't have to get Sweater and the glue stick. She did it so they could make it back to Manhattan. She could have called a cab on her own, but she didn't. Another reason why he loved her so much. She was bad - just for him.

If only she were a gargoyle, he thought, staring at her as she poked her head around the corner again, illuminated by the streetlight, her artificial goat horns, which she also had from the museum store, looked almost real (why did that store sell so much weird stuff? Just because it had the zoo's logo all over it or had an animal on the package, did it sell? Humans were SO weird!). Like the rest of her face, her horns were covered with scraps of newspaper. On her back she had little white angel wings that were probably supposed to be like a swan's. They held, just like his imitations of colorful parrot wings, with black rubber bands that could be slipped over his shoulders. Nashville thought it was surreal that he hid his real wings and they both put on artificial wings at the same time so people would buy their charade. But it was better than getting killed.

"There's a cab coming, I'm sure it's ours," Graziella said, beckoning him to join her on the corner. He crawled to her and felt sick with fear. As if she could hear his pounding heart, she turned around again, reached out to him and pulled him into an upright position. Oh yes, he had to walk on two legs.

"Remember. Do not speak or people will see that the beak is real. Nothing should move on your beak. Don't be afraid," she said, smiling at him so that the scraps of newspaper stuck to her crackled.

"I'm not," he lied, his voice breaking at the thought of stepping onto a busy street.

"Il bocca al lupo," Graziella whispered. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the front of his beak. This shook him so much that he couldn't speak, couldn't croak, couldn't even keel over in blissful amazement. He just stared as she bashfully cast down her eyelids. "That's what my Nonna used to do when I was scared. A kiss and wish the wolf dead. You have to say crepi il lupo now."

"Cr-cre-crepi il lupo," Nashville breathed, letting Graziella's hand pull him stiff-legged into the light.

Thanks for reading, Q.T.