The Boy Who Hatched Monsters Read online

  ‘Not an ogre,’ Wheedle muttered. ‘All gargoyle, aren’t you Sam?’ Another yawn.

  Sam sighed. ‘I think she’s lovely the way she is.’ He stroked Nugget’s ears again. His hand felt gritty and he rubbed it on his trousers. ‘She will grow up though, won’t she? She’s a bit bigger than when she hatched.’

  ‘We don’t know.’ Bladder stared at Nugget. ‘I wish she could talk better. She gets these looks on her face and can’t tell us nothing.’ He shook his head before letting out an enormous burp. ‘Pardon.’

  ‘How’s your tummy?’ Sam asked. Nothing seemed to agree with Bladder any more, even chocolate. Especially chocolate.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Bladder replied. ‘There’s nothing wrong with my tum. Don’t get me off-topic. We was discussing Nugget.’

  ‘Who is a baby. Babies don’t do what you want.’ Wheedle dragged himself over and put his heavy head on Sam’s leg.

  ‘Not supposed to be a baby,’ Bladder replied.

  Nugget woke. Wheedle picked her up in one limp hoof and cuddled her. The little gargoyle shivered, nuzzled Sam’s hand one more time and bounced on to Wheedle’s back. ‘All your whingeing, Bladder, now that’s what’s ruining everyone’s sleep,’ Wheedle said.

  ‘No one. Is supposed. To sleep.’ Bladder’s voice came out in a roar and Nugget started to cry.

  ‘Bladder, not today, hey?’ Wheedle said.

  ‘Bladder went to reply, then stopped with his jaw ajar. He frowned, blinked as if he’d remembered something and glanced at Sam, his mouth still open. The stone lion gave an artificial laugh. ‘Yes, that’s right. I forgot.’

  ‘Why don’t you go down and get yourself a warm drink, Sam? It’s cold up here.’ Wheedle winked at Bladder.

  ‘What? Oh, yeah, good idea, Wheedle. You should definitely do that, Sam,’ Bladder said.

  Sam did feel cold, but he wondered about the wink and what Bladder had forgotten.

  Sam jumped through his bedroom window, landing on the floor with a soft bump.

  ‘Tham?’ a voice called. Nugget peered in from the window sill.

  ‘Go back up,’ he whispered, pointing at the roof.

  Nugget watched him with a sad face, her eyes growing larger as she pouted.

  ‘Oh, all right, come in.’

  Nugget bounced to the bedroom floor and in three quick jumps landed on Sam’s bed. ‘Nuggee hungee, Tham.’

  ‘You want some chocolate?’ Sam opened his desk drawer and pulled out a bar. He spent most of his pocket money on chocolate, to keep the gargoyles happy.

  Nugget shook her head. ‘Nuggee hungee.’ She rubbed her gurgling tummy.

  ‘You want something else?’

  Nugget nodded.

  ‘I don’t have any sugar mice. Would you like some milk?’

  Nugget frowned. She didn’t know what milk was. Until recently, she’d been fine with chocolate and sugar mice, but last night she’d pushed away third and fourth helpings and looked for something else. Just like Bladder.

  ‘Are you getting tummy aches like Bladder?’

  Nugget rubbed her tummy again. ‘Yucky.’

  ‘All right, we’ll try some milk. But you stay here.’

  Sam tucked the quilt around Nugget and she put her small head on the pillow. Sam kissed her forehead like Michelle kissed his and pulled the door to as he left.

  Michelle and Richard sat in the kitchen. They stopped talking as Sam entered the room. He hadn’t been listening – Daniel had had a few words about Sam snooping too much, so he’d trained himself to stop eavesdropping.

  Nick stood peering into the fridge. ‘Sorry, Mum, I’m not feeling hungry,’ he said. ‘Do you mind if I go back to bed?’

  ‘You do that, son,’ Richard replied. He comforted a cup of coffee in one hand and held a pencil in the other, but there were no words written in his crossword puzzle.

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’

  Mum, Dad. They were every second word Nick said.

  ‘What about you, Sam – you still have your appetite?’

  ‘Mu … Mu … Michelle,’ Sam started.

  Michelle peered at him expectantly.

  ‘I just wanted a warm drink. Maybe some milk too, if that’s OK.’

  ‘Warm milk? You can get that yourself.’

  ‘Hey, Sammy.’ Nick mussed his hair, then plodded off to the stairs.

  Whatever was making them all down, Sam guessed it wasn’t anything he’d done. Hair mussing was a sign of affection, Daniel had told him. Sam went to the fridge. Today’s date on the calendar had been marked with a hand-drawn heart. Sam wondered why. Everything else was written out: Nick’s app: Dentist; Aunt Colleen’s hip surgery; board meeting.

  Sam poured out a large glass of milk and, as he microwaved it, he studied the heart.

  He heard a bump upstairs. So did Michelle and Richard. Something solid, possibly stone, hitting the floor.

  ‘What’s that?’ Michelle asked.

  Not ‘What?’ Sam thought. ‘Who?’

  ‘Nick’s dropped something,’ Richard said. ‘I hear it all the time. Actually, that’s more your thing, isn’t it, Sam? You bang that chair around a lot. It’s surviving very well, considering.’

  Sam didn’t respond. The banging from his room was never his chair; it was generally the heavy footfall of a careless gargoyle. Sam listened. The solid bumping was not coming from his part of the house.

  He heard baby Beatrice giggling from her room. Oh boy. If she yelled, Michelle would be up the stairs in a shot.

  He grabbed the milk and moved with quick intent to the stairs.

  He wasn’t really out of earshot, so Daniel couldn’t call it snooping, but as he left he heard Richard sigh, then say, ‘I’m glad he’s here with us, especially today.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Michelle replied. ‘I know he’s not … but he … anyway, it’s good.’

  The heart on the calendar. What’s today?

  He followed the bumping to Beatrice’s room to find Nugget in the cot with the baby. They were each sucking an arm of a tortured teddy, its resigned face staring at Sam.

  ‘Tham!’ Nugget said.

  ‘Ah, you’ve finally met,’ Sam said.

  ‘Tham!’ Beatrice said.

  ‘And introduced yourselves, I see.’

  The teddy forgotten, both babies jumped up and leaned on the cot railing. ‘Tham! Tham! Tham!’ They slapped hands and paws on the wood.

  ‘Is Beatrice awake?’ Michelle called out.

  ‘Yes, she is,’ Sam called back. He put the milk on the changing table, rushed to the cot and grabbed Nugget. The baby gargoyle clutched the wooden edge, her stone claws holding tight. ‘No, Tham. Nooooo. Play.’

  ‘What’s the matter, Beatrice?’ Michelle called out from the top of the stairs.

  ‘Let go, Nugget!’ Sam said.

  ‘No, Tham,’ Nugget repeated.

  ‘I have milk.’

  Sam pointed his chin at the milk on the table. Nugget stared at it as Michelle’s tired feet clumped nearer.

  Nugget’s tummy grumbled and she let go of the rail and reached towards the cup.

  Baby gargoyle in arms, Sam rushed to the changing table, put the cup in Nugget’s paws and pushed the straw into her mouth. She knew exactly what to do and sucked up the warm liquid. Sam shoved Nugget into the box of nappies on the lower shelf of the table as Michelle came in the door.

  ‘Mama!’ Beatrice called.

  Sam sighed. Even Beatrice called Michelle ‘Mum’.

  ‘Oh, you’re such a good boy, Sam,’ Michelle said. ‘You don’t have to change her.’ Michelle reached the cot. She studied Beatrice’s face. ‘There’s dust everywhere.’ She patted Beatrice and the cot mattress. Nugget quietly drank up her milk. Sam watched her eyes widen in pleasure.

  Michelle brought the human baby to the table. ‘Out the way,’ she said to Sam, and popped Beatrice down on the pad. With two quick motions she had Beatrice un-nappied and clean.

  Nugget sat a paw’s reach from Michelle’s knees, and Sa
m wagged a warning finger at the gargoyle. Michelle leaned over. Her hand moved towards Nugget’s nose, and Sam realised what she wanted. He ducked and pulled out a fresh nappy. As Nugget stretched to touch Michelle’s fingers, he pushed down the gargoyle’s paw and handed the nappy to Michelle. ‘Here you go,’ he said.

  ‘What’s this?’ Michelle asked.

  ‘A nappy?’

  ‘More dust.’ Michelle replied and shook out the nappy before turning it over, making sure the clean side was under Beatrice.

  Sam stepped back so he could watch Nugget. The gargoyle let the empty cup fall to the floor. Bump!

  ‘Huh?’ Michelle said.

  ‘It’s my cup, it’s all right.’ Sam grabbed it and glared at Nugget, shaking his head. The gargoyle reached for Sam. ‘In a second,’ he whispered.

  ‘What?’ Michelle asked.

  ‘I’ll take it downstairs in a second,’ Sam replied.

  ‘Good boy. You put that milk away quickly – maybe you need something more filling.’ She scooped Beatrice into her arms and walked to the door. Sam put himself in front of the table, blocking the view of the gargoyle as Michelle turned to look at him. ‘I’m so glad you’re here, Sam,’ she said.

  ‘Me too.’ Sam smiled, which was hard as Nugget butted her stone head on the backs of his knees.

  Sam listened until he heard Beatrice burbling at Michelle downstairs. He knelt down. ‘Bad girl,’ he said.

  Nugget burped in his face. ‘Mik,’ she said and patted her protruding tum. ‘Yum.’

  CHAPTER 2

  Bladder was still grumbling as Sam climbed back on the roof, Nugget in his arms. She played with the collar of his jumper.

  ‘Gargoyles sleeping, Sam! Sleeping, for goodness sake! Wheedle looks exhausted. Can’t just petrify the way we’re supposed to, he says. Can’t turn to stone cos it might wake the baby, might hurt the baby, might scare the baby. Up all day and awake all night. It’s just “Nugget, Nugget, Nugget”. As soon as she followed you, Wheedle actually petrified, solid. Finally. You really breathed her wrong.’

  Sam sighed.

  Bladder sighed too. ‘Oh, Sam, I’m sorry, you know what a grump I can be.’

  Sam did, but he was surprised. He couldn’t remember Bladder apologising before.

  * * *

  Sam remembered the sneeze that had hatched Nugget’s bead. She’d arrived far too small and almost completely wordless. Her first word had been ‘Mama’ as she peered into Wheedle’s adoring face, and ‘Dada’ as Bladder’s bottom jaw hit the ground with a clunk and a piece of his lower mane fell off. She also knew ‘Tham’, which was odd. Poor Spigot was just ‘Birdie’, but he didn’t seem to mind as he gifted her with affectionate pecks and let her hide under his wing. She hadn’t felt the need to say much more until recently. For the first month she’d been happy to lie on top of Wheedle as they turned to stone together, but later she started to sleep, not petrifying like a gargoyle should, just closing her eyes and curling into Wheedle’s belly. Lately, Wheedle said Nugget whimpered and cried all night, and now she only slept when Sam showed up, crawling into his lap and passing out.

  Sam didn’t want to tell Bladder about this incident with the ‘milk’. Sure, the older gargoyle’s appetite had changed in the last few months too, but he was embarrassed by it, and no one was allowed to mention it. Maybe it had something to do with Nugget’s arrival.

  The day after Nugget hatched, Bladder had said he noticed something off. The lion had gathered the remaining motes of dust from his mane and encouraged Sam to sneeze her bigger, better, smarter, but it made no difference. She developed slowly. She grew faster than Beatrice, but not as fast as a normal gargoyle. By a month old she should have been adult-sized and speaking fluently. A week after this failed stage of development, Bladder had suggested they get a good dose of fresh dust to fix her, and Wheedle got angry, hating the word ‘fix’, then burst into tears.

  Sam had thought it was a good thing. Maybe his hatchlings wouldn’t impress Maggie much, even if she did find out; then she’d lose interest in using him. That would be excellent.

  ‘I don’t think Maggie’ll be that easily put off. Nugget’s like Spigot,’ Bladder had replied. ‘Did we ever tell you Spigot was one of Thunderguts’s early tries, before he got good at making monsters? That’s all Maggie will see Nugget as: a first attempt.’

  ‘Anyway, she’ll be big and beautiful too, one day,’ Wheedle had said. ‘Just like you, Sam. You’re so lovely, luvvly-wubbly.’ Wheedle had rubbed noses with Nugget. The baby gargoyle giggled.

  And Bladder had rolled his eyes.

  A wing tickle woke Sam from the memory, as Yonah flew over his shoulder and landed with a soft drop next to him. A second after the dove, Daniel appeared, a bright, shining grin on his face. ‘Hello, all.’

  Nugget cheered and threw herself at the angel, hiding in his wings and peering out between downy plumes.

  Wheedle shook off his stoniness and grunted himself awake. ‘What you want?’

  ‘My reason for visiting you is something we talked about earlier. Remember?’

  Wheedle looked confused, then sat up. ‘Oh? Oooooh! Of course. How could I … ? It’s the lack of sleep.’ The gargoyle stared at Sam. ‘I am so sorry. An’ we were supposed to …’

  ‘Hey up there!’ Voices rose from the street. Sam peered down. His school friends Wilfred, Amira and Hazel waited on the pavement.

  ‘Looks like we’ve lost a bit of time. So, let’s hurry it along, hey?’ Wheedle said. ‘Spigot, chuck down the rope.’

  ‘Yonah?’ Daniel said.

  Yonah nodded and fluttered away.

  ‘What’s going on, Daniel? Wheedle?’ Sam asked.

  ‘No time,’ Wheedle said. ‘Gotta haul these shifters up.’

  Wilfred raced around on the footpath. Sam suspected that if the other boy had been in his dog-shape he’d have been chasing his tail.

  As Wheedle and Spigot pulled them up one at a time, Sam helped the three shifter kids clamber over the edge of the roof. They hugged and greeted him as if they hadn’t spent the previous day together at school.

  ‘Congratulations,’ Hazel said to Sam.

  ‘Er, thanks.’ Sam wondered what that was about.

  ‘Wow!’ Wilfred said. ‘Great view. Oooh.’ The shifter boy gazed at Daniel with glowing eyes.

  ‘Hello, Wilfred.’ The angel shot a beautiful smile at him.

  Wilfred grinned at the angel and elbowed Amira, pointing in Daniel’s direction.

  ‘Yes, yes, why don’t you get his autograph, fanboy?’ Amira asked.

  ‘It’s nice to see you all here for Sam’s special day,’ Wheedle said.

  ‘My special day? What’s so special about today?’ Sam looked at the faces crowding around him. Bladder, Spigot and Wheedle bunched up with Daniel on the edge of the roof. Nugget peered out from under his wing and Wilfred shuffled as close as he could to the angel. Hazel and Amira settled in near Wilfred.

  ‘We’ll just wait for Yonah, shall we?’ Daniel asked.

  As Sam scanned the sky, a bevy of pretty pigeons arrived and established themselves behind the gargoyles. They all peered up to wait for Yonah.

  Sam’s stare followed theirs. What is so special about today? It was a lovely day. Despite it being late November and brisk on the rooftop, the sun above them picked out pretty colours from the sea and town.

  They were high enough to see all around, from the green expanse near the marina all the way to the i360 Tower.

  Maybe that was the ‘special day’ thing.

  Sam had discussed climbing to the top of the i360 Tower with Wheedle. Richard had already taken him up the lift, and the gargoyles had done the ascent one evening, but they hadn’t done it together. Maybe that’s what Wheedle meant by ‘special’. Maybe they’d figured out a way to get up the tower during the day.

  But that didn’t explain the shifters’ presence. Or the shifters’ presents. Wilfred, Amira and Hazel had nicely wrapped gifts in their laps. Maybe it was a Christmas
thing? Sam still didn’t get Christmas, but Michelle was going mad shopping for it. Sam was trying to figure out what to get everyone. Chocolate for gargoyles, that was easy, but what do you get humans?

  Maybe it was an anniversary thingy. Michelle and Richard had had their wedding anniversary in October. Nick had dragged him out to buy Michelle a platinum bracelet. They’d had a bit of money each and Richard gave them the rest. It couldn’t be an anniversary though; Sam hadn’t been around a year. Maybe half a year?

  ‘What special day?’ he asked again.

  Daniel peered at a low-hanging cloud and clicked his fingers. A white shape appeared. At first, Sam didn’t recognise Yonah. Her tiny talons clutched a pale box twice her size. As she got closer, Sam saw it was plastic, something like the containers Michelle put food in so they could eat it another day. The dove flapped over Daniel’s head and the angel stretched up to take the container. Then Yonah fluttered to Spigot and sat on his neck. The two birds rubbed their heads together in greeting.

  Wheedle peeked at the two birds and chuckled. When he saw Sam looking too, he winked as if they shared some bizarre secret. Sam had no idea what it could be. Yonah preened her wings so they fluffed up as she settled on the eagle. Spigot’s head did a happy waggle.

  Wheedle winked at Sam again.

  With the arrival of the plastic container, the pigeons pushed closer.

  Daniel lifted a brown object from the tub. It looked like a chocolate cake. It smelt like a chocolate cake. The gargoyles huddled around it like it was chocolate cake, as did the press of birds.

  Daniel shoved some thin cylindrical objects into the top of the cake. Each one was as long as Sam’s forefinger and there were thirteen of them. What did they mean? Thirteen was an unlucky number, Sam had heard. The angel lit them with the end of his finger, which set the pigeons squawking. Wheedle and Bladder oohed and aahed. The flames flickered.

  Candles. The Kavanaghs had used candles in a blackout, but they’d been thick and short.

  ‘Happy birthday, Sam,’ Daniel said. ‘You’ve changed all of us, and we wanted to celebrate your special day.’