Page 8 of The Last Gargoyle’s Christmas Wish (An MM Monster Christmas #3)

CHAPTER 8

T he next day, Uzoth remained on the rooftop above the bakery. He watched the siblings come and go. He watched Grady. Each time Grady passed, the witch smiled and waved up at him. Uzoth waved back.

And of course, each time Grady left the bakery or apartment, he charged the protection spell on the door. The heat of the apartment had left Uzoth shortly after he’d left the apartment the night before. At first, he’d found the cold less bearable than it usually was.

The previous night, they’d spoken until Grady could barely keep his eyes open. Uzoth had risen. “You must sleep,” he had said, though he felt reluctant to leave Grady’s company.

But before Uzoth had left, Grady asked, “Will you come down again tomorrow night?”

And that invitation kept the warmth steady in Uzoth’s chest despite the cold of the air and the snow resting on his skin.

His talons pressed into ceramic tiles as he squatted on the roof. Time moved slower than usual. But eventually, night descended. And finally, hours later, Grady made his way home with several of his siblings from the Christmas markets.

Grady didn’t look up as he walked down the alley. For a few long terrible seconds, Uzoth thought Grady would not look up at all. Perhaps he did not remember the invitation he’d extended to Uzoth. Maybe he no longer wished to spend time with a monstrous gargoyle.

But then Grady stopped walking. The siblings walked on ahead, as if not realising Grady had stopped. But then Jack, Grady’s brother, called back, “You coming, Grady?”

“In a moment,” Grady said.

Jack entered the apartment and closed the door.

Then Grady looked up. He smiled. Relief unfurled inside Uzoth, and he flew down.

“Ready to come in?” Grady asked.

“Will I disturb your siblings?” Uzoth glanced towards the apartment door.

Grady laughed. “Not at all.” He walked up the stairs.

Uzoth followed. “My appearance may frighten them.”

Grady glanced back. “They’ll be fine,” he said, smiling softly.

When they entered, Grady’s sister Lacy rose from the cauldron over the fire. “There is some peppermint tea left over if—” She turned towards them and broke off. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as she stared at Uzoth. “Oh!”

Uzoth tensed, ready to leave. He would not cause her to be afraid.

But then Lacy broke into a smile. “You’re the gargoyle I see around so often. I’m Lacy.” She wrapped her hands around the steaming cup of tea.

“My name is Uzoth.” He inclined his head.

“It’s wonderful to finally meet you. Welcome to our home!” She glanced between him and Grady. “Well, I was just saying there is peppermint tea if you want.” She held up her cup. “I’ll take this to bed and leave you two alone. Have a good night.” Her gaze lingered on Grady. Then she turned and left. But before entering her room, she glanced back at them and smiled.

Grady shook his head. “Good night, Lace.” Grady gestured to the chair. “Sit.”

Uzoth lowered himself onto the seat as Grady grabbed a plate of food and poured them some tea. Uzoth admired the Christmas tree in the corner, decorated with shiny ornaments and tinsel. Several wooden figures decorated the mantel over the fireplace. He’d never been in a home with Christmas decorations before. Actually, it had been a long time since he’d been in anyone’s home.

Grady smiled and sat on the chair beside him, closer than the previous day. Grady leaned back in the chair, hands holding the mug. He took a sip and let out a sigh. Uzoth picked up his cup and inhaled the refreshing steam.

Grady grabbed a roll and took a bite. Uzoth took a sip of his tea, enjoying the way the warmth slid down his throat into his belly. Meanwhile, the heat of the fire soaked into his skin. For several moments, neither spoke as they both drank tea and Grady ate.

There was no awkwardness. Or at least, he felt none. In fact, Uzoth could not remember the last time he’d felt so content.

Grady wiped away the crumbs with the back of his hand against his mouth. “I was wondering, how old are you exactly?” Grady reached forward and grabbed a tart.

“Exactly?” A rumbling laugh escaped Uzoth. When had he last laughed? “I do not count the years. I do not think I’d be able to if I tried. But I flew through the skies long before Anorra was built.” Uzoth gazed into the fire. “Gargoyles were called from the stone into being by the powers of the Great Sorceress Rassala.” It had been an age since Uzoth spoke of this, years and years, too many to count.

“What happened to her?” Grady asked.

“It is a tale of betrayal. She died, slain by a blade wielded by her own daughter.” Uzoth turned and stared into Grady’s intense grey eyes. “Our purpose was to defend her, her kingdom, and those who served her. We had done so for many years. But we had not been created to protect her from her own. And so she died. And our purpose died with her.”

The fire danced along the logs.

“After that, we flew over the lands, we split from one another, searching for those to watch over and protect. Searching for a purpose. For a time, we would find those to guard. But most creatures will die of illness or old age if not from the sword. And we are not all-powerful, especially when we are not together.” Uzoth’s jaw tensed as all his failures over the years washed through him. “It is difficult to watch over others when I am alone.”

A log split and embers skittered in the fireplace.

“And several years ago you came here?”

Uzoth nodded.

“Where are the rest of the gargoyles?” Grady took a sip of his tea.

“Even with the magic of the fountain, the lack of purpose wore away at the souls of myself and my brethren,” Uzoth said. “We do not sleep. But we go into a sort of stasis, where our eyes remain open and we watch and wait. Sometimes, though, without a reason to live, we sink deeper and deeper into despair. Our hearts slow. Our blood stops pumping. Eventually, we turn completely to stone. We become nothing more than statues on top of buildings, staring down with unseeing eyes.”

“Fuck,” Grady whispered. “How many gargoyles are left?”

Uzoth stared down at his hands that held the small teacup. “I believe I am the last. I have not seen a living gargoyle in many years.”

Flashes of memories of statues he’d come across over the years flickered through his mind. His brethren. His kin. They would protect and watch no more.

“I’m so sorry.” Then Grady reached over and gripped Uzoth’s wrist, his skin warm, soft, and so alive. Uzoth felt the steady pulse of Grady’s heartbeat through the touch.

If Uzoth could weep, he imagined he would. Weep for the loss of a reason to exist, weep for the loss of his brethren, weep for the simple touch after so many years without.

Uzoth lifted his gaze. “I wish to convey my thanks to you, Grady.”

“For what?”

Uzoth did not speak for a moment, considering his words. He wanted to get them right. “I have been alone for a long time. I have gotten used to the loneliness of existence. I wish to thank you for your companionship and for speaking with me. I had not truly talked with anyone in many years until you came along.”

Grady squeezed his wrist, and despite the gentleness of the touch, that small pressure almost brought Uzoth to his knees.

“I am honoured to be your friend, Uzoth.”

Friend.

The word stuttered in Uzoth’s chest.

Friend.

Uzoth had a friend. His heart beat a little faster in his chest.