~5.9~

Viewed through the tiny LCD screen of the camera, the courtyard seemed… small. Small and gray. The moonlight robbed the scene of much of its natural colors, but it left its own hues in their place. The camera washed everything out. Laurie made a point of turning around in a slow circle to capture all four corners, letting it play over the iron balcony and the trees and the shrubs and the bench. The girl slipped out of the way of the lens so lightly and naturally that Laurie hadn’t even noticed she’d moved. Probably a good idea.

They were trespassing, after all. Laurie supposed that she herself was also contributing to the delinquency of a minor, or something like that.

“How old are you?” she asked, turning the camera upwards to get a visual record of an ornate cornice supported by scrolled corbels at the top of the wall. Tiny petrified faces leered down at her from between the supports, stone grotesqueries with tongues sticking out of contorted faces. She played the camera back and forth over them, zooming in on one. As unsatisfying as the camera’s view was, she couldn’t see the faces at all with her naked eyes… they were recessed in shadow.

“Three hundred and seventeen years old,” the girl said.

“What?”

“That’s how old they are,” the girl said. “They’re older than the building, but not the courtyard. They were brought over from Spain. See how every third one has its mouth open wider? Those ones are gargoyles.”

“You mean, they function as waterspouts,” Laurie said, getting a close-up of one of the gape-mouthed ones. “I do know something about architecture. So I guess you really are a guide.”

“Sometimes,” the girl said.

“What did you mean, they aren’t older than the courtyard?” Laurie asked. “Was the whole set-up brought over from Spain?”

“No, it was always here,” the girl said.

“So how can it be older than the building?”

“Because it was always here,” the girl repeated.