1850s. At the far eastern edge of the Necropolis they found a few old, gnarled apple trees, but it was hardly an orchard.
They wandered through the headstones, kicking the snow away along the path and looking up into the trees, gently calling. Christopher ran ahead and was looking at an interesting grave: Ned Hanlan, 1855â1908. As he finished reading about Ned Hanlan (a great oarsman and Canadaâs first world champion in any sport), he noticed a shiny headstone with an odd-looking angel on it. He walked over to it then realized it wasnât a headstone: it was a beautiful snow sculpture.
And it wasnât an angel, it was a gargoyle, and it looked like Ambergine!
âKatherine! Câmere!â he shouted.
âIâve found a headstone!â he called. âI mean, a snow statue! A gargoyle!â
Katherine ran up and clasped him by the arm. âThey must be here!â she cried.
The two plowed through the deep snow and called up into the trees. No gargoyle called back, though.
Then Katherine smelled familiar pipe smoke and ran down a small bushy path toward a large marble headstone â¦
⦠where a little gargoyle was smoking a pipe, curled up next to a flying angel.
The gravelly voice said, âBella grathen tador Ambe.â There was no âhelloâ just the words, âTell me you have found Ambergine?â
Chapter Thirty
The Hidden Turret
Gargoth was growling and complaining.
Katherine and Christopher were on a crowded streetcar and Gargoth was inside the yellow canvas backpack, being bumped and jostled on Katherineâs back. He was cramped and his sore wing was being crushed. He didnât seem to care if it was uncomfortable for Katherine, though, as he rolled and complained and jabbed her mercilessly with his pointed, taloned feet.
Gargoth growled. Gargoth sneezed. He grumbled in his strange, gravelly voice, âBehim mamot,â which Katherine and Christopher both heard as, âLet me out!â
A small boy standing beside his mother looked up in shocked surprise, searching their faces. They both stared at him, until Katherine frowned and shook her head at him. The boy looked away quickly, but Christopher saw his eyes stray again and again to the yellow canvas backpack. They were both very relieved when the boy and his mother got off the streetcar.
âShh! Gargoth, please,â Katherine whispered over her shoulder. She really didnât want people to hear her backpack groaning and complaining. But Gargoth wasnât going to be quiet. The only thing he WAS quiet about was what happened in the park with the Collector. He wasnât very forthcoming about that night, or how he ended up in the Necropolis.
When Katherine had asked Gargoth about Ambergine, he went completely mute. He absolutely refused to mention her name or discuss her in any way.
Christopher started fidgeting.
Whatever Gargoth knew about Ambergine, he wasnât saying. Christopher could feel himself start to sweat.
It seemed like forever before he and Katherine and Gargoth finally got off the streetcar and stood in front of Cassandraâs store. They both realized at the same time that they had a problem.
What, exactly, were they going to do with Gargoth?
Candles by Daye was swarming with people buying holiday gifts. Even if they wanted to push their way through the crowd buying dragon statues and skull candles, where would they take the gargoyle? Not to the rooftop, since the Collector might be watching from the library.
So Candles by Daye was out.
Katherine and Christopher looked over at the ruined park. After years of neglect, the park gates were open and it was suddenly swarming with people. City workers in colorful vests and hard hats were shovelling broken statue bits into the back of a city truck. Another worker was smoothing out the snow hills that were once snow statues.
A far worse thing was happening, though.
Two workmen were chain-sawing the branches off
They wandered through the headstones, kicking the snow away along the path and looking up into the trees, gently calling. Christopher ran ahead and was looking at an interesting grave: Ned Hanlan, 1855â1908. As he finished reading about Ned Hanlan (a great oarsman and Canadaâs first world champion in any sport), he noticed a shiny headstone with an odd-looking angel on it. He walked over to it then realized it wasnât a headstone: it was a beautiful snow sculpture.
And it wasnât an angel, it was a gargoyle, and it looked like Ambergine!
âKatherine! Câmere!â he shouted.
âIâve found a headstone!â he called. âI mean, a snow statue! A gargoyle!â
Katherine ran up and clasped him by the arm. âThey must be here!â she cried.
The two plowed through the deep snow and called up into the trees. No gargoyle called back, though.
Then Katherine smelled familiar pipe smoke and ran down a small bushy path toward a large marble headstone â¦
⦠where a little gargoyle was smoking a pipe, curled up next to a flying angel.
The gravelly voice said, âBella grathen tador Ambe.â There was no âhelloâ just the words, âTell me you have found Ambergine?â
Chapter Thirty
The Hidden Turret
Gargoth was growling and complaining.
Katherine and Christopher were on a crowded streetcar and Gargoth was inside the yellow canvas backpack, being bumped and jostled on Katherineâs back. He was cramped and his sore wing was being crushed. He didnât seem to care if it was uncomfortable for Katherine, though, as he rolled and complained and jabbed her mercilessly with his pointed, taloned feet.
Gargoth growled. Gargoth sneezed. He grumbled in his strange, gravelly voice, âBehim mamot,â which Katherine and Christopher both heard as, âLet me out!â
A small boy standing beside his mother looked up in shocked surprise, searching their faces. They both stared at him, until Katherine frowned and shook her head at him. The boy looked away quickly, but Christopher saw his eyes stray again and again to the yellow canvas backpack. They were both very relieved when the boy and his mother got off the streetcar.
âShh! Gargoth, please,â Katherine whispered over her shoulder. She really didnât want people to hear her backpack groaning and complaining. But Gargoth wasnât going to be quiet. The only thing he WAS quiet about was what happened in the park with the Collector. He wasnât very forthcoming about that night, or how he ended up in the Necropolis.
When Katherine had asked Gargoth about Ambergine, he went completely mute. He absolutely refused to mention her name or discuss her in any way.
Christopher started fidgeting.
Whatever Gargoth knew about Ambergine, he wasnât saying. Christopher could feel himself start to sweat.
It seemed like forever before he and Katherine and Gargoth finally got off the streetcar and stood in front of Cassandraâs store. They both realized at the same time that they had a problem.
What, exactly, were they going to do with Gargoth?
Candles by Daye was swarming with people buying holiday gifts. Even if they wanted to push their way through the crowd buying dragon statues and skull candles, where would they take the gargoyle? Not to the rooftop, since the Collector might be watching from the library.
So Candles by Daye was out.
Katherine and Christopher looked over at the ruined park. After years of neglect, the park gates were open and it was suddenly swarming with people. City workers in colorful vests and hard hats were shovelling broken statue bits into the back of a city truck. Another worker was smoothing out the snow hills that were once snow statues.
A far worse thing was happening, though.
Two workmen were chain-sawing the branches off
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