Alessandra (#1, Omega Beginnings Miniseries) (2 page)

But I was too young to know why the ribbons
existed, how I alone saw them or what I was supposed to do, if not
bring my stuffies to life for tea parties.

“Gargoyles have water spouts,” Mrs. Thatcher
told me. “This is a grotesque. It’s a statue monster. Can you say
grotesque?”

I ignored her.

“They’re here to protect the gods,” she
continued. “Do you see how large their eyes are?”

While each was unique, every beast had
oversized wings, fangs and eyes. This one had eyes that were
different sizes, the mane of a lion and face of a panther, a long
tail, and wings like a dragon. He was larger, too, and facing the
wrong direction.

Dozens of scary-faced stone monsters peered
over the edges of the rooftop on the Temple of Artemis at the heart
of Washington DC, glaring down at anyone who came to visit. Only my
monster looked inward, guarding the rooftop. This was my first
field trip to the Temple, and nothing had interested me about the
place where the goddess visited aside from the stone creatures with
their four ribbons. But this one had my absolute attention before
the incident with the boys; he was special like me.

“It’s said the gods can see through the eyes
of the grotesques and make sure no one is here to hurt them,” the
teacher said. “But they can’t hurt you. They’re just stone.”

“I don’t care!” I snapped at her, my anxiety
reaching a pitch. “You’re not helping him right!”

“Alessandra, what have we discussed about
these outbursts?”

“Leave me alone!”

“I’m getting your teacher.”

I climbed onto the paws of
the grotesque and grabbed the piece of stone from her. She walked
away. I planted the ear where it belonged, albeit sloppily, and
then I did
it.
I
closed my eyes and imagined his ribbons smoothing out, twisted the
two yellow ones beginning to separate and wrapped him with the
ribbons only I possessed: the green ones.

I took his pain away and went one step
further. I willed his ear healed. The stone shifted beneath my
fingers and grew together. His ear was sideways, but it was back
where it belonged.

“You’ll be okay now,” I
told him softly. “I’m sorry they hurt you.” I touched his scary
features. “You need a name. How about … Mismatch?” I touched his
misshapen eye and uneven fangs. “I don’t care what she says. You’re
a gargoyle. You’re
my
gargoyle.”

“Alessandra!” My teacher called.

I was always in trouble as a child, obsessed
with the ribbons no one else could see. The grotesque didn’t answer
me or move the way my stuffies did when I wrapped them in green
ribbons. I hopped off his paws and waited for the teacher to come
lecture me, as usual.

“Honey,” my teacher’s voice was gentle but
firm. “It’s time to go sit in the bus.”

“I know,” I said and sighed. Uncertain how
to address a stone creature, I curtseyed the way I’d seen the
princesses in Disney movies do. “Goodbye, Mismatch.”

“Mrs. Nettles! I’m home!” I shouted and
shoved the front door open.

With my participation in the temple tour cut
short after the gargoyle incident, I couldn’t wait to get home. My
parents worked until seven each night for the government; I didn’t
expect them to be there. I dropped my book bag on the floor by the
door and flung off my shoes.

My purring, stuffed koala waddled down the
stairs to the door.

“I had an awful day, Mrs. Nettles,” I told
her the way my father did my mother when he got home from work. “I
made us a new friend! But then I forgot to tell him where I live.”
With a sigh, I began to think this was the worst day of my life so
far.

Mrs. Nettles picked up my shoes – she loved
shoes – and waddled towards the stairs.

“Don’t you want a snack?” I asked her.

She paused and then switched directions,
clutching the shoes to her fuzzy chest. We went to the kitchen, and
I told her all about my day – the stupid tour, the stupid boys, the
ugly gargoyle and being sent to the bus to sit because of my
temper.

“I don’t
have
a temper, Mrs.
Nettles!” I complained while heating us both cups of water for tea
in the microwave and digging the chocolate pudding out of my
mother’s hiding spot in the pantry.

Lifting her off the
counter to the floor, I precariously balanced a tray of tea and
snacks and climbed the stairs to my room on the second floor. I
turned on
Frozen,
my current favorite movie, which always cheered me up, and
sat down on the floor with Mrs. Nettles.

She sat on my shoes and then pawed at the
stuffed horse at our tea table.

“Okay. I guess he can come out. He almost
got us in trouble last time,” I reminded her.

Weaving the ribbons that floated around the
stuffy quickly, I counted to three and smiled when Horsey came to
life.

Clumsy and oddly proportioned, Horsey’s
first move was to knock over Mrs. Nettles’ tea.

“Can this day get any worse?” I moaned.

It could and did.

My parents came home early, soon after I
did. Irritated by my day, I went to the top of the stairs to greet
them and fetch my book bag before my mother yelled at me.

They were speaking tersely in quiet voices.
This, of course, warranted me sneaking down the stairs to hear
their secrets. My sixth birthday was coming up. It was possible
they were planning a party.

“…
neighbors
disappearing,” my father said. Tall and handsome with brown hair,
he stormed into the kitchen – the place they went to talk in
private – and was followed by my pretty, tiny mother. “Seven,
Kaitlin! They’re closing in.”

I crept down the stairs. It didn’t sound
like a discussion about my party, but I wanted to be sure.

“If we move now, they’ll know,” my mother
was saying in her calm I-told-you-this-before voice. “We have to
wait.”

“For how long? For our entire neighborhood
to end up at the House?” my father asked. “For us to be arrested
and interrogated?”

“Relax, Howie. We’ve been careful. We always
are.”

“Not careful enough. They found her somehow.
We’ve tried everything to make her normal, to make her fit in.”

I was too young to
understand they spoke about
me.
That knowledge didn’t click until I was close to
ten. I stood and listened, wondering whom they were talking
about.

“Hey, Mrs. Nettles,” my mother greeted my
special pet. “No snacks before dinner.”

Mrs. Nettles curled up at her feet.

“This
is why,” my father said and pointed at her. “We can’t keep
hiding these … things she makes.”

Offended by how they treated my only real
friend, I gasped.

“Lyssa, is that you?” my mother called.

I ducked behind the doorway.

“Come on out, baby,” my father said.

“Who were you talking about?” I asked and
entered the kitchen. I gave Mama a hug first and then Daddy before
picking up Mrs. Nettles.

“No one, baby. Just a neighbor.”

I was too young to know when my parents lied
to me, too. “Oh. You aren’t planning my birthday party?”

“Not yet.” Mama smiled.

“Will people come this year?”

They exchanged a look. “Lyssa, we might have
to keep it a family affair again this year,” Daddy said gently.
“You can bring all your toys to life at once. Won’t that be
fun?”

“It’s the worst day of my life, daddy.”

He laughed and picked me up, hugging me.
“You want nuggets for dinner?”

“Yes.”

My mother wrapped her arms around both of
us. We rested our foreheads against one another’s, the way we did
every day before bed. The worry faded from both their faces.

“You are our world, Lyssa,” Mama told me.
“You know that, right?”

“I knooooooow.” I said with another dramatic
sigh. I took her face in my chubby hands, kissed her forehead and
did the same to my father.

“I’ll put Mrs. Nettles away so you can start
dinner,” I said with all the seriousness a child possesses.

My father set me down. I picked up Mrs.
Nettles and hefted her up the stairs to my room.

Dinner was quiet. I knew enough to sense
something was wrong. Rather than watch a movie after eating like we
usually did, my parents went to their room. I couldn’t make out
their muffled words and remained in my room, alone, as usual. Mrs.
Nettles played with me, though Horsey was grounded after spilling
her tea.

My parents didn’t emerge at bedtime, so I
changed into my pajamas and brushed my teeth then turned off the
lights. I climbed into bed with Mrs. Nettles. Streetlight slipped
past my curtains and made lines on my ceiling. I watched them. Mrs.
Nettles burrowed into the covers beside me, and soon, her purring
lulled me to sleep.

Until sometime very late, when a scratching
at my window woke me. Mrs. Nettles was at the wall beneath the
window, clawing at it. I sat up, shuffled to the window and peered
out. Shadows and light played with my eyes. I wiped sleep from
them. Something resembling a huge bird was hovering outside my
window. I leaned through the curtains to see it more clearly. It
was in the unlit backyard, and moonlight glinted off its wings as
it settled next to my sandbox.

Unable to make out its form among the pool
and landscaping of the yard, I focused on the ribbons to identify
what it was.

There were five – and one was green.

With a gasp, I shoved my feet into my
slippers and grabbed Mrs. Nettles. I raced out of my room, down the
stairs and to the back door, all but slinging it open in my
excitement to see my guest.

My step slowed when I reached the bottom of
the stairs. I set down Mrs. Nettles. None of my stuffed animals or
toys were nearly as big as the gargoyle before me.

Mismatch was huge, larger than he had seemed
crouched on the rooftop of the temple. His wings were as wide as my
yard, his eyes glowing dark teal, and his athletic body like
something I had seen in cartoons about superheroes. His tail
swished back and forth, tapping against the swing set, wagging the
way my neighbor’s dog’s tail did when I fed it treats.

“You found me, Mismatch!” I exclaimed in a
quiet squeal I hoped didn’t awaken my parents. “I am so sorry! I
forgot to give you my address!”

He was still ugly though less frightening
than he had been crouched and scowling on the temple. I dashed to
him and flung my arms around his thighs. He was warm like a human,
not cold like a rock.

“Mrs. Nettles! Come meet Mismatch!” I cried
in a muffled voice.

How did you awaken me,
little one?
His voice entered my head
rather than my ears.

I looked up at him. His
fangs were too large for his lips to cover, and his oddly shaped
eyes and face were nowhere near normal. A small gem matching his
teal eyes was at the base of his neck on a black choker. But I
wasn’t afraid; he was
mine.
Everything I awoke became part of my
world.

“I gave you a new ribbon,” I told him. “It
woke you up. It woke her up.” I pointed to the purring koala bear
that drew near. Mrs. Nettles was worried, pawing at one of her
ears.

Ribbon?
The gargoyle’s voice was low and dark like the
night. He knelt in front of me, his wings closing around us as if
to keep my parents from hearing.
What is
this ribbon? Magic?

“Magic?” I echoed and scrunched my face. “I
can’t have magic, silly. Only the gods and Oracle have magic.”

He touched my face with
his cool fingers. His nails were long and pointed. They tickled,
and I giggled.
You are but a child,
he said, sounding puzzled.
How can a child have this gift?

“I don’t know,” I answered. “Do you want to
meet the others?”

What others?

“My toys. I bring them all to life sometimes
but they’re sleeping now. You can stay with me, too.”

I cannot stay, little
one.
He laughed quietly into my
mind.
I am too large.

“But how will I take care of you?”

You wish to take care of
me?
He tilted his head.

“Yes, of course. Mama says if I awaken
something, it must stay with me, because it’s my responsibility. No
neighbors can know, and especially not the government or they’ll
take you away. So I bring everything to my room.” I looked him over
skeptically. “You might fit in my closet.”

You gave me life, little
one. I can take care of myself. I can take care of
you.

“Me?” I giggled. “That’s why I have Mrs.
Nettles.” I stretched to grab my favorite pet and best friend.

This is your
protector?
Mismatch picked up Mrs. Nettles
with one hand.

“Yes. She sleeps most of the time, except in
the afternoon.”

You need a protector while you sleep.

“Why?
Everyone
is asleep at night,” I
pointed out. “The only monsters are the ones I sometimes dream
about. They come to life and sneak into the neighbor’s house, but
they never hurt me.”

Mismatch was quiet. He swept hair from my
face and gazed at me through his gemstone eyes. I shivered in the
cool night air, and his wings closed around us. I snuggled into the
plush wings.

“Oooohhhh!” I ran my fingers through the
soft fleece covering the inside.

You will need a protector before this is
done.

I smiled at him without understanding. “So
you will stay in my closet?”

No, little one. But I will be here at night
looking over you.