Mulligan smiled, his eyes misty. “Zef, my Zef. He’s kind and gentle. Once, a bat flew into our home, and he spent hours coaxing it down from the rafters with offers of fresh berries and aged cheese. That bat dined like royalty.” He chuckled at the memory. “It was only later we learned that the batwasroyalty, third in line to the throne of Umbre. The succession line in that realm is based on prophecies, which means their rulers are occasionally animals. They use regents for the actual ruling, of course, but the bat or wolverine or hawk or what have you is given a luxurious life.”
“Huh.” So many questions.
He topped off the drink and then carefully poured it into a test tube–size vial of club soda. “I believe it is nearly ready.” Holding it steady, he added the few drops from the purple glass bottle. Only three drops. They swirled into the vial. “I shall save the rest for a second attempt, if necessary.”
He then stared at the vial for a moment longer.
“Do you think it will work?” Calisa asked.
“If it does, I owe it all to you,” Mulligan said with a smile. It was a sad kind of smile, and she realized that in his heart,despite the tears of joy, he didn’t believe it would work. He’d tried so many times…but he kept trying, even with only the thinnest sliver of hope.
Softly, she asked, “How long has it been? Since Zef…” She trailed off, realizing she didn’t know the word for what had happened to his partner.
“Eternity.”
Oh.
He carried the vial out of the kitchen, and she, unsure if it was okay for her to follow, hesitated by the counter. From the lobby, he called, “If you would like to lend your support, I shall be glad of it.”
She hurried after him, passing Portia, who was curled up on the registration desk. The cat opened one eye as Calisa trotted by, then closed it.
“I didn’t know if you wanted privacy,” Calisa said to Mulligan.
“I have had too much of privacy.” He climbed the stairs. “It is companionship that I have missed. Zef and I…We used to be inseparable.”
With a half bow, he opened the door to his guest room and welcomed Calisa inside.
Thick black shades were drawn over the window, which—combined with all the black on the walls and the bed—made the room feel like a cave. She wondered at the bat story and how Jack had said that Mulligan admired Dracula. It was all a bit on the nose. She thought about asking if he drank blood too but decided that would be rude, especially after she’d clearly seen him drink hot chocolate. Also, she’d seen him in the sittingroom at teatime, which had made her previously dismiss the vampire theory, but had he ever been in direct sunlight?
Mulligan crossed immediately to the gargoyle, who was positioned beside the hearth on top of a golden pillow. “Zef, my love, it’s time to try again. Wake for me, please, I implore you. This is not the life I wanted for either of us. This is not what’s meant to be.”
Calisa saw the firebird float down the chimney and lower itself onto the logs. It burned silently, watching. She wondered if it observed everything that happened in the inn—and why. It felt a bit like a wordless, fiery cheerleader, urging them on.
The firebird crackled encouragingly as Mulligan lifted the vial to Zef’s fanged stony lips and poured. Calisa expected the liquid to drip down the gargoyle’s stone face, but it pooled in the cracks between his teeth and then was absorbed.
As the stone drank, the firebird held still, its feathers draped over one of the bits of wood in the hearth as if clutching it in anticipation. How many times had Mulligan tried, and how many times had the firebird served as witness?Please work,she thought at Zef.Wake up.
Mulligan rocked back on his heels. His hands were clasped in front of him, so tightly that she could see his knuckles and the veins raised blue against his pale skin.
Calisa studied the statue. She’d expected him to transform, like the Beast into a prince, or the frog into a prince, or Pinocchio into a real boy.
He did not.
But he didthaw.
The gray of his stone softened, and the pebbly surface seemed to smooth until it more closely resembled flesh. The gargoyle’s clothes brightened into scarlets and emeralds as they changed from stone to cloth. His face stayed gray and still looked caught between a monkey and a bat. But his eyes, which were once blank and gray, changed: a black iris and white around it. His eyes fixed on Mulligan’s face.
Mulligan was sobbing silently. His shoulders shook. Tears streamed down his cheeks. “Zef,” he croaked. “My Zef. I am so sorry. Please…I am so sorry. I have missed you so much, my friend, my love, my joy, my life.”
“Well then,” Zef said, his voice as gravelly as Calisa could have imagined, “you should have said so.”
Mulligan threw himself forward, his arms and robe wrapping around Zef.
The firebird flew up the chimney, and Calisa backed out of the room with a smile on her face. She felt dampness on her cheeks and lifted her fingers to touch tears.
I need to tell Jack.
We have a new guest.
