Page 4 of Hearts of Stone

Chapter 3

“Turn your torches on now,” the guide instructed us, as she unlocked the front gate of the separate fence enclosing the former asylum. As I heard the heavy tumbler turn over in its lock, I fumbled for my phone and tapped at the torch icon. Spots of light from our group’s torches moved across the facade, revealing the majesty of Z Ward.

I’d expected it to be a much simpler building than the main house and, although it was built with basic red and buff bricks, the simple building materials had been used to create an imposing facade. Arched windows were ringed with buff bricks, contrasting against the predominant red brown, and the two colours had been intermixed to create elaborate patterns on the pediments. As we stepped through the massive iron gateway, we could see a small tower of some kind, perched on the roof of the asylum, with a tall lightning rod attached to it.

But that wasn’t all that we could see on top of the building.

“Are they…?” one of the men in the group asked, trying to train his light up at one of the shadowy shapes on the roofline.

“Ghosts of inmates past?” the guide said and then shook her head. “Unfortunately not. The Whiteleys were known for theiridiosyncrasies before Luther took control of the family fortunes. What you see there are gargoyles.” Everyone’s torches were now pointed up at the figures on the roof. Some of those on the tour had brought high powered night stick torches that illuminated some of the features of the beast closest to us. “The Whiteley family imported all of the gargoyles that survived the destruction of Wildfyre Hall and more besides.”

She smiled tightly.

“You’ll see them on the roofs of every building on the estate, including the groundskeeper’s cottage, of all things, and there’s some grand specimens inside.”

At that, she walked forward to the double front doors of the building to undo the massive lock hanging there. As she removed the heavy chain, the rattling sound had everyone looking around nervously. Sound seemed to travel so much further in the still, open space, echoing around the massive empty grounds. The doors creaked with a theatrical air as she pressed against them, and then she threw them open, leading us inside.

Which was initially a bit of a disappointment.

On the outside, it was as if the architect had strived to make sure the asylum was in keeping with the other buildings we’d caught glimpses of on the grounds, as if to disguise what it was. But when we stepped inside, it was very different. Whitewashed walls had turned grey over the years, with dust and spiderwebs adding to the grimy, institutional look that was compounded by heavily worn concrete floors, cracked glass windows, steel reinforced doors and...

“Oh…!”

My little gasp was echoed by the rest of the group as our collective torch light converged on the same point. There, so much closer than the figures on the rooftop had been, wasanother gargoyle—dark, muscular, frozen in a stiff crouch, fangs bared.

“This one is a particularly grand specimen,” the guide said, walking over to the beast and smoothing her hand down his impressive back. On closer inspection it became clear that a set of two gargoyles had been placed either side of the grand staircase that led upstairs, presumably to more cells. Our guide was hardly a small woman, but she looked tiny next to the sculpture. “It was an odd choice, that’s for sure, putting gargoyles inside a mental asylum, but no one could ever have called Luther Whitely a rational man. Some have wondered if he deserved to be made an inmate himself. Now, if you come through here, I’ll show you some of the ‘therapy rooms’, which will have you wondering what on earth he was trying to achieve…”

As she spoke, her words washed over me, but I didn’t really take them in. My eyes were transfixed somehow by where her hand rested on the gargoyle’s shoulder blade, catching the way she patted the stone flesh, then stroked it absently as she spoke about the creator of Z Ward. Luther was a bad man. Luther did terrible things to inmates. Luther was probably freaking bonkers, from what she was saying, but none of it seemed to penetrate. My heart rate began to pick up and I knew it because I could feel it throbbing in my ears, getting louder and louder.

“Coming?” I was jerked out of whatever spell I was under by Daniel grinning down at me. “Or you wanna take your chances with Goliath and Hudson over there.” He nodded to the gargoyles which had been left alone to moulder, just like they had been before we entered the building. And why did that feel wrong? I took a step towards the sculptures, when I was meant to be following the tour. “Jade…?”

His voice, like that of the guide, seemed to just fade away as I took another step forward, then one more. Daniel had a wholelot more to say, it appeared, but I couldn’t seem to focus on his words. I kept walking toward the statues and that’s when I truly saw them.

I’d seen other statues positioned similarly to the way these two had been placed: Chinese dog sculptures or dragons, carved in stone and placed outside shops or temples to protect them. But none of those carvings had seemed to possess an individual spirit, not the way both of these two did.

My feet moved forward and as I came closer I saw the differences between them. The one on the left was far bigger, something you didn’t notice right away as he was curled up tighter, long claws digging into the plinth he crouched upon. Long tumbles of stylised hair partially obscured his face. And then there were those wings. Curled around him like a caul, he glared out from behind those sharp pinions, lips peeled back in a snarl. He looked like at any moment he’d leap forward, ready to attack. But the other one? His wings were far more expansive, wrapped tight around his body. His face was almost completely obscured by them, which was strange, because the point of gargoyles was to create a fierce facade, to scare away evil spirits. This beast looked like he was shrinking back in the face of evil.

And that had me feeling sorry for him.

The sculptor’s work was incredible, displaying a skill I wasn’t sure could be matched by artists of today. Not only was the whole creature rendered in believable proportions, the detail was such that I could see the veins running along the thin membrane of the wings, the curve of those claws, wrapped around the edges of his wings as if to tug them closed. I caught the harsh slope of his nose, the deep wrinkles of his frown, the flash of his eyes…

Hang on, what?

“What the fuck was that…?”

Daniel didn’t say that in the way anyone normal might, in horror or surprise. Rather his phone was up and he tapped on his camera, recording the sight before us. Both gargoyles were made from a matte grey stone, but the longer we looked at them, the more those eyes seemed to glow. Just a lighter grey at first, then pearly grey, then silver. I was stepping backwards, not sure what the fuck was happening, when the guide reappeared.

“I’m going to need everyone to keep up. Oh…” We spun around to look at her, but she was staring past us at the gargoyles. “Are they…? Were they…?”

The fact that she’d arrived just then made me sure that this was all an act. These gargoyles were probably a recent addition, powered by some simple animatronics, like one of the attractions at Disneyland. And the guide was very good at her job. Her mouth fell open, her skin going pasty white as she stared, adding to the whole ghostly vibe. We twisted back around. Daniel had his camera in hand, ready to record his first paranormal event. And me? I frowned, my usual sceptical attitude intact. Then I had to blink, because I wasn’t sure what had happened.

Had they moved? My eyes raked across one gargoyle, then the other, trying to analyse their poses, their expressions. The big guy on the left, the one I was now calling Goliath: were his wings pulled back further to reveal more of the severe planes of his face? Had the other one, Hudson, shrank back further? Had his frown drawn down further? Was his tail lashed tighter around his ankles? Had they—? I blinked and then grabbed Daniel’s arm. This was ridiculous. We were standing around in an old creepy psych ward. Of course we were going to start seeing things that weren’t real. The power of suggestion and all that.

“We’re holding up the tour,” I told Daniel. “You wanted to know what Luther Whiteley got up to here. Let’s go.”

“Hm…?” the guide said as she dragged her eyes away from the gargoyles then shook her head. “Yes, yes, we need to get on with the tour. The caretaker only allows us an hour in here and… Anyway, the therapy rooms are through here.”

She pointed to a room where the others all roamed, their torches sweeping up and over the contents.

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