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said.
    â€œBut I—”
    â€œNo, really,” said Jonathan, his tone frosty. “I get a fractured skull when my house collapses on me, I somehow end up here, my mom and dad have disappeared, and I’m having hallucinations of waving gargoyles because I really have broken my brain! Then you come up with this fairy tale of angels and magical villages, and I’m supposed to believe it. I’ve got a head injury, I’m not mental!”
    â€œOh,” said Cay, looking crestfallen. “I was just trying to help.”
    Jonathan knew he shouldn’t snap at Cay, but he just couldn’t stop himself. He really liked her, but what she was saying made him feel like he was the target of some huge joke.
    â€œIf you want to help me, then stop making up stories,” he said.
    â€œI see,” said Cay, sounding quite composed, as if she’d expected Jonathan to react the way he had. “Then I guess if I’m going to make you understand, I’ll have to bring out the big guns.” She got up and put her head round the bedroom door. “Elgar!” she called out. “Some help in here, please.”
    Jonathan watched as a thundering on the stairs turned into the large black cat with white front paws. Elgar jumped onto the bed and stalked up to the bemused boy until his face was barely inches away, his whiskers twitching, his yellow eyes boring into Jonathan’s. The cat held the pose for a good twenty seconds before biting Jonathan gently on the nose.
    â€œOw!” cried Jonathan, clapping his hands to his face.
    â€œHallucinate that!” said Elgar.
    Jonathan stared at the cat in horrified curiosity. “It . . . it . . .”
    â€œYes,
it
talks,” said Elgar. “And I have a name, you know.”
    Jonathan looked wide-eyed at Cay. She just shrugged and smiled.
    â€œWhat you have to ask yourself, Sonny Jim,” Elgar said to Jonathan, “is the following. Have I actually gone stark, raving hat stand? Or has everything Cay said to me so far been incredible but true?”
    Jonathan just stared at the cat, his mouth open.
    â€œOh,” said Elgar. “The gargoyles, Monty and Stubbs, are quite hurt that you didn’t wave back to them earlier on. They’re simple souls, but that’s no reason to take advantage of their good nature. Now shuffle over to the window and wave at them, or else!”
    Too astonished to argue, Jonathan slowly got out of bed and walked to the window. Opening the curtains, he saw the two gargoyles looking up at him expectantly. Feeling slightly ridiculous, he raised a hand and waved at them. Obviously overjoyed, the two gargoyles not only waved back but did a synchronized jig on their respective gateposts.
    â€œPop yourself back into bed, then,” said Elgar, smiling like a Cheshire cat. “It’s time we began your Hobbes End education.”

Chapter 6
B OGEYMEN
    â€œOh, Darriel, you’ve been so stubborn. Look at what we’ve had to do to your wings.”
    An angel, bound in chains, hung from a hook on the ceiling. Apart from the illumination of a single overhead bulb, all around him was darkness. At his feet lay a pile of blood and feathers.The angel’s head lolled on his chest; his body sagged in exhaustion.
    â€œNo pithy retort, no defiant response?” said a chilling voice from outside the narrow circle of light.
    The angel mumbled something, the words so mangled and quiet as to be inaudible.
    â€œSpeak up, then. Tell me what I want to hear and all this unpleasantness will stop. Where . . . is . . . your son, Jonathan?”
    Darriel’s lips moved, but no sound came out.
    â€œPlease don’t make me step in all that mess,” said the voice. “I have new shoes.”
    Darriel just moaned.
    There was the sound of footsteps on stone, and a figure appeared out of the gloom. A tall, cadaverous man studied the wounded angel through dark, glittering