St. Patrick's Gargoyle
Chapter One
In the bitter cold of a late December night, the gargoyle's
sharp gaze scanned restlessly over the deserted streets
of Dublin. Not far below, the clock in the tower of St.
Patrick's Cathedral began to strike midnight. The sound of
the bell reverberated on a breeze brittle with the promise of
snow, skittering among the city's chimneys and across frost-kissed
slate roofs. Very soon, the rhythm was picked up by
other clocks elsewhere in the sleeping city.
Revelling in the music that sang freedom, the gargoyle
stretched batlike wings and gave a snort of satisfaction. From
his lofty vantage point behind the tower's stepped Irish battlements,
invisible from street level, he had guarded this part
of the city for centuries. Only once each month, when the moon
was dark, did h ... read full excerpt from St. Patrick's Gargoyle ebook
