Disappointment swirled about Gabriel like a fog. He almost stepped in front of a speeding car on the way back to the apartment. He walked inside without his usual Seanna-check. It'd been almost a week, and he'd grown accustomed to pushing open that door into an empty apartment. When he heard the squeal of her laughter, he stopped short.
"Gabriel, baby." Her voice reached him before she did, and he hovered in the doorway, considering backing out when she appeared.
At one time, Gabriel supposed his mother had looked more like his aunt. She wasn't as tall, maybe five-ten, but her shirt and jeans hung off her like grown-up clothes on children's hangers. Her face was just as thin, with sunken cheeks and eyes that seemed more gray than blue. Today, they were grayer than usual, dull with that heroin glaze. She was only twenty-eight, but she looked twice that.
"This is my baby," she said, and Gabriel realized they weren't alone. A man walked from the kitchen. Maybe thirty, with the bulky build of a construction worker. He had a beer can in one hand and that same film over his eyes. New to the drug. New to the life. His mother knew her marks well.
"Isn't my boy a cutie?" she said.
"He has weird eyes," the man said.
Seanna punched his arm. "Don't be mean. He has beautiful eyes. And he's smart, too. Smartest kid in his class."
"Must take after his daddy."
Seanna spun on the man. "Now that's mean. You'd better watch yourself, or you'll be sleeping on the street tonight." She turned to Gabriel. "Can you go get us some burgers, sweetie?"
He nodded and put out his hand. Seanna looked at the man and waited until he passed over a ten.
"That won't feed Gabriel, too," she said. "He's a big boy. Only ten, and look how big he is already. He eats more than I do." She leaned over to whisper. "And the more he eats, the better he sleeps."
The man exchanged the ten for a twenty. "Get yourself something good, kid."
Behind the man's back, Seanna raised two fingers. Two dollars. That's what he was allowed to take for his meal. The rest of the change went to her.
Gabriel pocketed the money and headed out.
In Cainsville, Solstice was indeed bigger than Christmas. In first grade, Gabriel's teacher had asked his favorite holiday, and that's what he'd said. She'd looked at him blankly. He'd repeated his answer and explained it--longest night of the year, the basis for Christmas, with feasting, exchange of gifts and all that. The next day, she'd taken him aside for a "chat" about Jesus and how he'd given his life for Gabriel's sins, and that was the proper celebration of Christmas. Gabriel had corrected her, as politely as possible. Easter was the holiday recognizing the death of Christ, and, while he understood the concept, he thought it rather presumptive to die for strangers. One of the younger teachers had overheard the conversation and reported it, and, ultimately, his teacher had to take him aside and apologize for questioning his religious beliefs. He'd accepted the apology, though he hadn't understood it, not until he was old enough to realize Solstice was considered a Pagan festival. In Cainsville, it had nothing to do with religion. It was a celebration of winter. Nothing more.
The festivities began at sundown. Rose took him down to Main Street, which had been blocked off all day to prepare. Bonfires dotted the road, with a huge one in the middle. Candles covered every surface. Gifts were placed on tables according to age. They were unmarked, suitable for anyone of that age. Children had to bring one for the age group below theirs. Gabriel had brought two books: The Phantom Tollbooth and A Wrinkle in Time. Both came from the used-book store, but neither looked as if anyone had cracked open its cover, so they could pass as new.
On arrival, every child was given a suet ball and had to find a place to hang it to help the birds through winter. They also got an orange, to represent the sun, and mulled cider, to keep them warm as they hunted for a suitable hanging spot. When they returned, Main Street was filled with tables and tables of food. Afterward, there would be caroling. And, of course, mistletoe, strategically hung for kissing. Gabriel avoided both by helping clear the food away. The night ended with stories and the burning of the Yule log. And that was when Gabriel's night truly began--hunting for the last gargoyle, because he was certain the man had given him a hint. The final gargoyle would appear on the most important night of the year. The longest night of the year.
And it did. In fact, it was rather hard to miss, if you went looking. After the festivities, though, everyone headed home, leaving the streets bare, the bonfires smoldering. That's when Gabriel found the gargoyle, in the most obvious place of all. Right in the middle of Main Street. Town Hall. On the bell tower.
Gabriel stood below the gargoyle as it leaned down from the tower, its twisted face grinning at him as if to say, "Found me!" He looked up through the falling snow and let out a low chuckle that reverberated through the silent street.
"Fitting, isn't it?" said a voice behind him. It was the man, snow crunching under his shoes. Gabriel didn't turn, just kept staring at the gargoyle.
"The bell tower?" the man prompted.
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"The Hunchback of Notre-Dame," Gabriel said.
"Very good. You do like stories then, even if you don't write any in that journal I gave you."
"I read the comic book."
The man's laugh rang through the night. "Liar."
Gabriel smiled and shrugged. Then, he made the appropriate notes in his book, giving the exact location and describing the gargoyle, as was needed to claim his victory.
"You did it," the man said as he walked up beside Gabriel.
"Yes, I did."
"You know what the prize is, don't you?"