The gargoyle I'd just spotted wouldn't have done much good as a waterspout. It was tucked under a bush beside the school's front gates. I hadn't noticed it before, so I stopped...and saw nothing. The gargoyle had vanished. I took a step back. Still nothing.
I glanced at Gabriel. He just stood there, waiting. I crouched beside the bush and pushed the leaves aside. Behind them I saw a rock. Just a regular gray rock. Despite the rough and jagged surface, no matter which way I looked at it, I couldn't find a face.
"I did see one, right?" I said.
"Possibly."
"Can I get a hint?" I asked.
"You're the detective."
"Spoilsport."
"No, I'd be spoiling your sport if I told you. The clues are there. Follow them."
I touched the rock.
"I wouldn't do that," Gabriel said. "It bites."
I shook my head. Holding the branch aside, I tried looking again from every angle. No shape took form.
The clues are there.
I let go of the branch and eased back. That's when I saw another branch, higher up, the bark almost worn away in one spot. I tugged it, and there was the gargoyle. Or, more accurately, a baby gargoyle. That's what it looked like--an infant in swaddling clothes, with twisted and exaggerated features, its face contorted in a wail. I reached out to touch it...and let out a yelp, drawing back to see a drop of blood welling on my fingertip.
"Didn't I warn you?" Gabriel said.
"Ha-ha. There must be a thorn..." I leaned in further, seeing no thorns...and a smear of red on the gargoyle's tiny jagged teeth.
"You weren't joking," I said.
"Do I ever?"
I sat back on my haunches and looked up at him and thought, Where's yours? Where was his gargoyle?
"Ah," said a voice behind Gabriel. "I see you've found one of our most popular gargoyles. The cranky baby."
I looked over at Patrick. "It bites."
"Of course it does. The children wouldn't love it nearly as much if it didn't. That's why it's at the school."
"That makes no sense."
"Then you, my dear, don't know children."
"What's their purpose?" I asked as I stood.
"Children? No idea. It appears to be simply an inconvenient stage between birth and usefulness."
"I mean the gargoyles," I said.
"They divert water from buildings, reducing wear on the stonework."
I shook my head. "I know they can scare away the Cwn Annwn's ravens, but this one couldn't do that--or divert water. The gargoyles must serve a greater purpose."
"They do." He leaned in conspiratorially. "Would you like to know what it is?"
"Yes."