Ivy
Days have passed in which Conall and I explore more of each other. This morning he made breakfast before we walked into town together and it felt domestic in a way I haven't had for a long time. Maybe in a way I've never really had.
When we reach town, there's a commotion. Resident monsters are gathered at the roundabout at the end of Main Street.
"What's going on?" I ask Conall, his arm firmly around my waist as we walk closer.
"I was literally buried under the blankets with you this morning. I know what you know, Freckles," he reminds me. I spot Ada's purple wings poking up out of the middle of the crowd.
"Ada!"
She turns, and so do Layla, Dolly, and Amy. They smile and wave me over. I make my way through the crowd with Conall right behind, eyeing everyone he passes as though they might pull a knife on me.
When I catch up, they're all giggling.
"What's going—" I don't have to finish that sentence.
In fact, I'm fairly certain I can't. The statue in the middle of the roundabout has moved again, which makes sense since Conall told me it's a gargoyle.
He's in a rather precarious position today.
His wings droop behind him. His tail is limp at his side.
Several empty bottles of liquor are scattered around him, and he's completely naked. He wasn’t shy about his body when he turned to stone either.
He leans back on his little pedestal, legs spread, head tilted to the side with a lopsided grin on his face.
"Okay, looks like Hugo had quite a night," Conall says, raising his hand to try to block my view. I slap it away.
"All right, all right," Laz calls over the din, pushing his way to the front, carrying a large tarp. "Let the man have some rest.." He flings the tarp into the air, and it comes down over Hugo.
The crowd starts to disperse. I follow the girls back to the café.
"What do you think that was about?" I ask.
Amy sighs. "His curse."
I furrow my brow. "The island gargoyle-slash-town-statue got completely naked and shitfaced because of a curse?"
"Yes," Ada confirms.
"What curse?"
"All gargoyles are cursed," a British voice says just over my shoulder, and I have to slap a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. A jaunty newsboy cap floats between us with a coffee from the counter.
"Goddamnit, Edgar. You can't just do that!" I near-screech. Conall pulls me close with one arm around my waist, chuckling.
"Sorry," Edgar says, hat tipping forward, and I can almost imagine him ducking his head in chagrin. "But they are."
I turn to Conall. "They are?"
He nods, eyes flicking back out the window to the tarp-covered statue.
"Gargoyles were cursed a millennium ago.
The curse states that if a gargoyle can find their fated mate and convince them to accept the mating bite, they'll no longer turn to stone during the day.
Without it, they're cursed forever. Some gargoyles became so dejected that they chose to stay stone all the time.
Hugo hasn't, but every year on the anniversary of the curse, he gets pretty fucked up overnight, and we have to tarp him. "
I look back out the window. The tarp has half slipped off his face, showing the right side. Though he was smiling when I first saw him, there's a definite pain in his eyes. The quality of something lost, maybe broken.
I think about the wards. How much are they keeping out?
If I reverse what my aunt did instead of letting the wards renew, and the island goes back to rejecting everyone who wants to come here, is it even possible for someone like Hugo to find his mate?
The clattering of dishes, the scream of the coffee machines, and the laughter of friends continue around me, but I'm not participating.
Suddenly, what I'm meant to do, my part in fixing the wards, seems far more serious and far less clear-cut than I ever thought.
Throughout the day, my mind keeps drifting back to the spell and the decision to be made.