The Gargoyle at the Gates. Philippa Dowding

running away from them. The dog, the boy, the lady, and the somethings in the bushes dashed the circuit of the park twice, before Christopher somehow managed to make a giant leap and land on Marbles’ back. Boy and dog both landed with a grunt on the ground, Christopher on top. He grabbed the leash, panting as he lay on his dog.

      “Sorry. Are you okay?” Christopher managed to say.

      The tall lady had taken a seat on one of the park benches. She was mopping her brow. “My, your dog is quite … athletic,” she croaked, trying to catch her breath.

      Marbles was whining and wriggling and champing his teeth, staring up into the apple tree. There was a rustling above them, but Christopher couldn’t look up into the tree AND keep a tight hold on his dog at the same time. He was barely big enough to weigh Marbles down as it was. If he moved a muscle, then the dog would be off and running again.

      “I’m Cassandra Daye, D-A-Y-E, by the way. That’s my store across the street,” the tall lady said, still trying to catch her breath.

      “Oh. I see. Candles by Daye, with an ‘e’. I get it.” Christopher was doing his best to be polite, which wasn’t all that easy under the circumstances. “I’m Christopher Canning. I live next door,” he managed to say. He could feel Marbles tensing beneath him, readying himself for a monstrous leap up the trunk of the apple tree.

      “Hello, Christopher.” She seemed uneasy, like people do when they’re hiding something.

      She kept darting little glances up into the apple tree, then back down at him. She cleared her throat, about to speak, when a gentle, whispery voice said, “Blethem morgount.” Christopher heard it say, “He seems nice.” It came from the top of the apple tree.

      Christopher tensed as Marbles went rigid beneath him, ready to spring. “Okay, what was that voice? Who seems nice?” Christopher asked.

      “Voice? What voice? Oh, that? Wind in the leaves, don’t you think? Do you like this park? It’s very old … the city is thinking of removing it, building apartments. It’s not much use for most people … the fountain watered horses a long time ago … it’s still quite lovely…”

      Christopher knew she was trying to distract him. His mother did that, talked too much about things that weren’t relevant whenever she was nervous or trying to draw his attention elsewhere. It worked when he was little, sometimes.

      The deeper, growlier voice said, “Megathon mebahtu.” Christopher heard it say, “The monster smells bad.”

      Christopher’s eyes grew wide as he looked up into Cassandra’s face. “Did … did you hear that?” he whispered. “What is it?”

      Cassandra Daye bit her lip. “Oh, I really don’t think I should … nothing …”

      Christopher couldn’t help it. He lost his patience, and with his last breath, he yelled out, “PLEASE TELL ME WHAT IS TALKING TO ME IN THE TREE!”

      “Oh well, I’m not sure …”

      And that’s when Christopher Canning’s arms gave out, and Marbles-the-monster made a mighty leap into the air, loudly snapping his teeth together …

      … just missing a gargoyle as it flew out of the apple tree and lurched off into the night sky.

      Chapter Eleven

      Cassandra's Truth