Page 7 of Guarded by the Gargoyle (Hidden Hollow #3)

5

WILLOW

I was panting with terror as I turned to slam the door shut behind me. But to my surprise, it slammed itself shut. And not a moment too soon—I could see the slavering jaws of the three-headed, six-eyed thing just starting to cross the threshold. Then the heavy oak door clapped closed in its monstrous faces…and then quietly disappeared as though it had never been there in the first place.

My heart was still thundering in my ears and for a moment, all I could do was press a hand to my chest and try to breathe. I had no idea where I was—only that I was safe. At least for the moment.

Slowly, I began to take stock of my surroundings. I seemed to be standing in the middle of a street that ran through a small town. I saw shops and business—all closed—lining the road. Where was I?

Well, it must be someplace on Earth because nothing really looked alien or strange and also I could breathe, so that was good, I thought. It was nighttime—just as it had been back in New Orleans—but the air felt different. Back in my hometown, it was already getting hot and sticky, even though it was only the middle of April. But here, the air was cool and crisp and I smelled scents I associated with Autumn—the smell of dried leaves and the scent of smoke. There was also a hint of what might be snow on the air, though it wouldn’t be here anytime soon…

“My dear, are you quite all right?”

I gasped and my heart started galloping in my chest again as I whirled around to see who was talking.

It was someone standing on the front porch of the huge old Victorian structure across the street from me. It looked like a house that had somehow overgrown its boundaries and turned into a hotel of some kind. Its faded white exterior seemed to glow softly like a ghost ship floating in the shadows.

“Who…what…?” was all I could get out.

The person who was talking to me came out into the moonlight which was streaming down and I saw it was an older woman with curly gray hair piled on top of her head. She was wearing a long robe with flowing sleeves trimmed in ostrich feathers that floated elegantly around her wrists.

“I’m sorry if I frightened you,” she said, coming down the front steps of the Victorian structure, her heels clacking on the wood. “I was just out here because I couldn’t sleep—I have simply dreadful insomnia, you know—and I saw you come to town.”

“Come to town?” I repeated stupidly. Was that all she had to say about the way I had run right through a magic door and found myself in this strange place?

“Why yes—I saw the Portal appear and then you came through it,” she said patiently. “And you looked so distressed. I assumed that you came here from necessity rather than choice. Though I notice you do have a key with you.”

She nodded at the iron key which I was still clutching in my fist. I was still holding the tiny golden key as well, and the silver chain I always wore them on.

“Oh, uh…” I stared stupidly at the key in my hand. “My Pop-pop gave it to me,” I muttered.

“Your Pop-pop?” She raised her eyebrows delicately, the brilliant moonlight winking off the gold rims of her spectacles.

“My Grandfather,” I corrected myself. “His name was Giovanni. Giovanni Callahan.”

“Oh, Giovanni!” she exclaimed, coming closer. Her low kitten heels, which were also trimmed in floating ostrich feathers, clicked on the pavement. “Why didn’t you say so? How is the dear man? I haven’t seen him in positively ages!”

“He…he’s dead,” I said, still too rattled to be anything but blunt.

Her hand flew to her mouth.

“Oh my dear! How dreadful!” she exclaimed. “Oh that poor, dear man! What happened to him? Was he…” Her voice dropped. “Was he killed by whatever was chasing you?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “He…he died about a year ago. But I heard his voice tonight,” I added—though I wasn’t sure why I was telling her this. “He told me to run because those…those things would drag me down into the…the Pit!”

I was starting to cry for the second time that day (or night) which made me mad at myself. I hate crying—I did enough of it when I was married to Carlo and it never helped anything. It only made things worse. I sniffed hard and swiped at my eyes, willing myself to get my wayward emotions under control.

“You poor thing! Here I am questioning you in the middle of the night and the middle of the street!” the woman exclaimed. “Where are my manners? I’m Goody Albright and you must be Willow—the Granddaughter that Giovanni spoke of so often.”

“Yes, that’s me. Willow Callahan,” I said. I had taken back my maiden name after I finally got a divorce.

“Well, Willow—welcome to Hidden Hollow,” Goody Albright said. “We’re something of a sanctuary town for Creatures and people who are magically gifted.”

“Magically gifted?” I shook my head. “But I don’t have any magic.”

“Are you sure, my dear?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because I promise you, the Portal to Hidden Hollow won’t appear for just anyone, even if their need is dire. It only comes to those who have magic. No mere magicless mortal can pierce the veil that protects us, you know.”

I opened my mouth to deny I had magic again…and then I thought of how I had been able to open a doorway into the Other Side and how The Power had flowed through me like an electrical current.

And don’t forget the other door you opened, whispered a guilty little voice in my head. The one that let that Hell Hound through!

Ugh! Just thinking of the six-eyed beast—if it was only one beast—made my blood turn to ice in my veins. I shivered all over as though a chilly wind had rushed over me.

“Look at you, shaking like a leaf! We can’t keep talking out here in the street—it gets cold here during the Autumn months,” Goody Albright said. “Why don’t you come with me and we’ll have some nice hot tea to warm up?”

Feeling like I had little choice in the matter, I nodded.

“All right. Thank you.”

“Good, just come with me my dear. We’ll have a seat out on the sun porch and you can admire my garden while we talk. It’s quite lovely by moonlight,” she added.

Not knowing what else to do, I followed her up the steps of the huge Victorian mansion. The wide front porch was shadowy but I managed to make out a wooden sign by the front door. It had a stylized lion carved in it and the words over it said, The Red Lion.

“Oh, a lion!” I exclaimed and looked down at the iron key I was still holding.

“Yes, The Lion has been around since the sixteen hundreds—it was established not long after the Salem Witch Trials,” Goody Albright told me.

“No, I meant my key —the one my Grandfather left me. It has a lion on it. See?”

I showed her the key and she nodded her head.

“Well, now I know I was meant to help you. Thank goodness I was awake when you came to town. Just imagine if you’d gone knocking on doors and wound up at, say, Mr. Horn’s house. Minotaurs are so grumpy when you disturb their slumber,” she added.

“Minotaurs?” I asked, following her through the shadowy interior of the huge house. It was kind of like a maze inside, with long corridors that led in different directions, so I made sure to stay close to her.

“Well, it’s not fair to single out the Minotaurs—a Kraken would have dragged you down to the watery depths first and asked questions after too. Really, any kind of Creature can be alarming when you interrupt their sleep. It’s one reason people in the Human world call them ‘Monsters,” she went on glibly. “But they’re not really monstrous, you know—you just have to know how to get along with them.”

None of this was making any sense to me, but by this time we had reached the back of the huge, rambling structure and had stepped out onto a glassed-in back porch.

“Now you just have a seat,” Goody Albright said, indicating a small table that had two chairs. “I’m going to make you some of my best cinnamon spice tea. It will warm you up and then we can talk.”

She bustled off as I settled myself at the table. Through the glass widows I could see the garden she was so proud of spread out under the moonlight. There seemed to be wildflowers mixed in with a variety of vegetable plants and the effect was one of chaotic beauty.

Standing in the middle of the garden was a large marble statue. It appeared to have two faces and the one facing me was of a hideous gargoyle. I saw curving horns and twisted features scary enough to give anyone nightmares. Large bat wings extended from its broad, gray shoulders and spread wide in the moonlight. Just looking at it made me shiver.

“Here we go!” Goody Albright bustled back, carrying a silver tea tray in both hands. She set it on the table and I saw that it held a steaming teapot, two cups, a little pot of honey, and a small pitcher of cream. “I see you’re admiring my Garden Guardian,” she remarked.

“Yes, he’s…really something,” I said, nodding at the snarling face in the moonlight.

“You ought to see his other side, it’s absolutely gorgeous,” she said, smiling. “The face of an angel and the body of an Adonis.”

I shook my head as I took the cup she handed me.

“No thanks—I prefer the ugly side. Pretty men are trouble.”

Carlo had always been the most handsome man in almost any room he walked into. It was one reason I felt so flattered when he attached himself to me—and look where that had gotten me.

“Hmm, well you could be right.” Goody Albright offered me the honey pot and I drizzled some of it into my cup. “So tell me dear, what brings you here tonight? Or should I say, what chased you here?”

“I don’t know exactly what it was,” I said, adding a dollop of cream and then sipping carefully at the hot tea. The warm steam rose to tickle my nose and the cream added just the right touch —it was like drinking a cinnamon roll. “ Mmm —this is really good.”

“It’s a family recipe,” she said, smiling. “So if you don’t know what was chasing you, just tell me what happened. Maybe I can help you figure it out.”

I normally wouldn’t tell a complete stranger my private business, but I had to admit that I was way out of my depth. Besides, Goody Albright had known my Grandfather and she seemed like a trustworthy person.

I started out by telling her about how Pop-pop had always claimed I would get “The Power” that he had at some point.

“Which I guess is the power to reach over to the Other Side and you know, talk to the dead,” I admitted hesitantly.

Goody Albright shook her head.

“My, my—that’s a dangerous power, my dear. Especially if it’s used the wrong way.”

“I don’t know if I used it the right way or the wrong way,” I said. Then I shook my head. “No, that’s not true. I’m pretty sure I screwed it up right from the start. But I didn’t think it was true—all that stuff about ‘The Power’ or ‘The Gift.’ I thought Pop-pop was making it all up—that he was just pretending to Channel the spirits of the dead.”

“Oh my—so you’re not just talking to them, you’re Channeling them as well?” Her eyes grew wide. “My dear, that takes the danger up a whole order of magnitude. Why, do you know what can happen if you allow a spirit to enter you that doesn’t want to leave?”

“I have a pretty good idea,” I said dryly. I told her about trying to Channel Big Nicky Valentino’s dead mother and getting his dead wife instead. When I got to the part where Kitty Valentino wrapped my hands around his throat, she stifled a gasp.

“Oh no! How did you ever get her out of you?”

I explained about how I had envisioned myself pulling the spirit out of me and she nodded.

“Yes, visualization is a key component to any strong magic, whether it’s witchcraft, necromancy, or what have you.”

“I wouldn’t call what I did ‘necromancy’ exactly,” I said uncomfortably. “I mean, I just talk to the dead—or let them talk through me. I don’t actually bring them back to life.”

“True, you’d need a body to raise to do actual necromancy. But Channeling does fall under the general umbrella of the Dead and Undead. That’s neither here nor there, though—tell me what happened next?”

I explained how Big Nicky had been so angry with me and had insisted that I send his ex-wife’s spirit back to Hell.

“Oh my dear…tell me you didn’t ,” Goody Albright exclaimed.

I nodded reluctantly.

“I’m afraid I did. I was so flustered and I didn’t want to risk her getting back inside me. Having her in me was…just awful.” I made a face, remembering the feeling of being filled with the dead woman’s hate and resentment, as bitter as stale cigarette smoke. I had never felt so violated. Not even when Carlo…but I cut that thought off abruptly.

“So did you send her to the Pit?” Goody Albright asked.

“I think so. I saw her getting sucked into a kind of black hole outlined in red flames—almost like she was being sucked into a vacuum,” I explained. “She went right into it. But then I saw something coming out of it.”

I described the shadowy monster which was vaguely dog shaped and its three heads and six burning red eyes.

“It nearly got me but I heard my Pop-pop telling me to run,” I told her. “And then I saw a door outlined in light standing at the end of an alley.”

“Yes, the door or Portal to Hidden Hollow sometimes appears during a low point or a time of great danger and need,” she explained. “And it seems that your Grandfather had prepared you for it, since he gave you a key.”

“He gave me two keys.” I laid them both on the table, the huge iron one and the tiny, delicate golden one. “I never knew what they were for. I still don’t know what this one is for.” I nodded at the golden key.

“Well, something tells me you’ll find out when the time is right,” Goody Albright said mysteriously. “In the meantime, you’d better spend the night here and give that door to the Pit you opened time to close.”

“Oh, will it just close on its own then?” I asked, feeling relieved. “Because I wasn’t sure what to do. I’ve never had The Power until tonight and I still don’t really know how to use it.”

“My guess is you’ve had it ever since your dear Grandfather died,” Goody Albright said. “A Gift like that tends to pass from one person to another in a family—it can only manifest in one family member at a time, you see.”

“That must be why my Grandfather always said that someday I would have the same Power he did,” I said thoughtfully. “I guess he meant it literally—when he passed, it jumped to me.”

“ Exactly , my dear. And of course, it can be quite disorientating to suddenly have a Power you know nothing about filling your body.”

“Tell me about it!” I muttered. “I just don’t understand why Pop-pop didn’t warn me about it more.”

“He might have thought that you wouldn’t believe him,” she said gently. “Didn’t you tell me that you thought he was just ‘pretending’ when he Channeled spirits in the past?”

“Well…yes,” I admitted. “How did you know him, anyway?” I asked.

“Oh, Giovanni came to me a couple of years ago asking for a Spell of Disinterest and Banishment,” she told me. “He said he wanted the strongest one I had. Of course, I warned him that it wasn’t a good idea to tie it to his own life-force, but he insisted.”

“Tied to his own life force?” I said, feeling numb. “What…what do you mean?”

“Well, there are spells of Banishment to get rid of bad people in your life, but those don’t usually work if the person is really fixated on you,” Goody Albright explained. “Which was how your Grandfather explained it to me. To get rid of someone who’s really obsessed, you need to give the spell a continuous flow of power. And since Giovanni wasn’t a witch and his Channeling power couldn’t really be harnessed in that way, he had to have some way to keep feeding it—the spell, I mean.”

“So…he hooked the spell of Disinterest to his own life?” I asked.

She nodded.

“Yes, the spell drew a little vitality from him every day. I warned him that he would have to monitor it—to stop it before it was too late and it drained too much of his life away. But he—oh my dear, whatever is the matter?”

For a minute, I couldn’t answer her. I could feel my face going the wrong way—twisting the way it does when you’re trying not to cry. I was so tired of being emotional tonight! But what she was saying was just confirming the awful suspicions I’d had myself—that Carlo’s willingness to let me go was somehow linked to some kind of magic spell—a spell that made my Grandfather grow old and die before his time.

“My dear, what is it?” Goody Albright reached across the table and put a hand on my arm. “You can tell me,” she said softly.

“He…he didn’t stop it in time,” I whispered, still trying not to cry. “He used that spell to free me—to get rid of my horrible ex, Carlo. But then, I guess he just let it keep going. Why didn’t he stop it after Carlo gave me the divorce? Why? ”

“Oh my dear, I’m so sorry!” Goody Albright shook her head sorrowfully. “It’s possible that he went past the point of no return, after which it doesn’t matter if you stop the spell or not. It’s like a kind of balance—once you reach the tipping point, there’s no return.”

I buried my face in my hands and breathed deeply. Poor Pop-pop! He had sacrificed himself for me—given his life to get me free of Carlo. How I wished he hadn’t done it, but I knew if he hadn’t, I might be dead right now.

Carlo had been getting really violent near the end of our marriage—violent and unpredictable. I could never tell when he was going to go into a rage at the littlest thing…or nothing at all. Sometimes he didn’t even need an excuse because he just wanted to hit me.

“I’m sorry,” Goody Albright said again. “I should have dropped in and monitored him. But he seemed to know exactly what he was doing…”

“No, it’s not your fault,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s mine. It was my stupid choice to marry my ex and Pop-pop paid for it.”

“I’m sure he did it because he loved you,” Goody Albright said quietly. “I know you miss him, but with your gift, you can still reach him.”

“I heard him tonight,” I admitted. “But I don’t know about calling him up and talking. After what happened with Kitty Valentino, I don’t think I ever want to deal with the dead again!”

“That’s quite understandable,” she nodded. “And of course, you don’t have to use your Power. After all, it lay dormant inside you all the time after your Grandfather passed until tonight. You can just go back to living your life and ignore it…if you can.”

“If I can? What does that mean?” I asked, frowning.

“Well…” She sighed. “It’s different with different magic users, but sometimes once the Power in your blood wakes up, it’s difficult to put it back to sleep again.”

“I don’t care how hard it is—I never want to use it again!” I said firmly. “I just want to get back home to New Orleans and run the shop and live a normal life. Well, as normal as I can,” I added.

Goody Albright patted my hand.

“I completely understand. Just wait until the morning before you go home. As I said, you want to give that door you opened to the Other Side time to close.”

“I don’t know,” I said frowning. “I left the shop’s back door wide open. What if somebody robs the place? Or what if my cat, Miss Sassy gets out?”

“Better to lose a little money than your life,” Goody Albright said sternly. “You need to wait until its safe to go back. The light of day will be a good protection against any evil spirits or demonic creatures who are trying to get to you. Stay here for the night—I’ll put you up in one of my guest cottages. I think The Flower Bower is free right now.”

“Well…all right,” I said grudgingly. “But how do I get back home when I’m ready to go?”

“Oh, that’s easy—you hold the key to getting home right in your hand— literally .” She nodded at the iron key. “Just imagine where you want to go, draw a doorway in the air, and wait for a door to manifest. Then push it open and walk through. The door will disappear on its own afterwards,” she added.

“Wow—I didn’t know it was that simple.” I looked down at the key, feeling tempted to try it right away. But then I remembered the three-headed Hell Hound and decided it wasn’t such a good idea. Besides, I was bone weary. As worried as I was about the shop and Miss Sassy, I needed to get a little shut eye.

I can get up early at the crack of dawn and go back, I told myself.

“Do you have an…” I yawned. “Sorry. An alarm clock?” I finished. “So I can wake up early?”

“Yes, my dear—there’s one in the cottage I’ll be putting you in,” Goody Albright assured me. “It’s at the far end of the garden. Just let me put away these tea things and we’ll get you settled for the night.”

She bustled away with the tea tray and I rose and went out into the garden.

By the light of the moon, I could see the other side of the hideous gargoyle statue. It was, as Goody Albright had said, an extremely handsome angel. He had chiseled features and a short beard. The wings on this side were feathered instead of leathery and they were spread as though the angel was just about to fly away. Around his neck was a chain with a small lock that hung in the hollow of his strong throat.

He really was gorgeous—a literal angel, I thought. And he was definitely a male—the artist had carved him an extremely impressive piece of equipment.

Curious, I went to the gargoyle side to see if he was the same size. It was just as large as the angel side, but…was that a barb on the end of his shaft where the head should be? Ouch—no thank you!

Then something else caught my eye. There was a kind of stone plaque at the base of the statue. I shouldn’t have been able to read it—even in the moonlight there were shadows everywhere. But the letters carved in stone almost seemed to glow—they caught my gaze and I couldn’t look away.

Feeling almost hypnotized, I braced my hand on the statue’s thigh and leaned over to see them better. As they glowed even brighter, I began to read aloud, murmuring the words to myself.

“Though I am carved of coldest Stone

And here I stand bare and Alone

She who holds my locket’s Key

Will be the one to master Me

She may wake me from my Sleep

When her need for me is Deep

My wings shall shield her from her Fears

My softest feathers dry her Tears

My deadly fangs shall tear her Foes

My faithful ears shall hear her Woes.

Until she deigns to set me Free

Her Faithful Guardian I shall Be.”

“Wow!” I muttered as I finished reading. “Must be nice to have a gargoyle-angel to watch over you! I could have used someone like you tonight, buddy,” I added, looking up into the carved stone face. “I wish I had a protector, considering the mess waiting for me when I get home.”

I was thinking of how Carlo had remembered me again and also the fact that Big Nicky Valentino was probably still angry with me for how his private Spirit Session had turned out. Not to mention that there was still a three-headed Hell Hound out there looking for me. I just hoped that particular situation would resolve itself. If the door I had opened would just close on its own?—

My thoughts cut off abruptly because something weird was happening. I had been bracing myself on the statue’s thigh as I bent over to read the carved inscription at its base. But for a moment I had sworn that I could feel the statue’s stone flesh moving under my hand.

“Get a grip on yourself, Willow,” I muttered, pulling my hand away and rubbing the palm uneasily. “It’s just your imagination. There’s no way?—”

And then the statue blinked and looked down at me.

“Mistress?” he rumbled in a deep, smooth voice. His feathered wings flexed as he spoke.

“What the hell?” I jumped away from the statue, my heart pounding

“Mistress…”

The statue stepped down off his pedestal—it was the angel side talking to me, I saw. Or no—now he was all angel and the gargoyle had disappeared. Maybe absorbed into him when he came alive? I didn’t know. Also, he now had some clothes on—just a pair of tight black trousers and some black boots, though. His chest and arms were still bare and still impressively muscular.

Also, what the hell was happening to me? Was I dreaming all this?

I didn’t seem to be. The former statue was staring down at me intently and he seemed as real as I was.

“Mistress, I am Kael—I am here to serve and to protect you,” he said.

And then he knelt at my feet.