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"Gargoyles only look and feel like stone when they're bound to a quest. By nature, they're watchers—observers. The creatures are intelligent to a degree and have a limited vocabulary, but they don't think like we do. They're also incredibly long-lived, even more so than the Sidhe. Some of the gargoyles you see on the walls of Notre Dame and other cathedrals are in stasis, watching and keeping track of what goes on Earthside. They've been there so long among the statues that they may never be able to change back. I don't know their whole history, but I should start reading up on it now that Maggie's here."
Chase ran his fingers lightly over her back. "She's soft. Are you going to keep her or send her back to Otherworld?"
I shrugged. If I sent her home, there was no guarantee she'd be looked after. The Court and Crown didn't care much about Cryptos, except for unicorns and pegasi. Some time in the far distant past, gargoyles had been pressed into service and stripped of their rights in Y'Elestrial. They were often used like animals—intelligent ones—but animals nonetheless.
"Maggie's a Crypto, creatures most humans think of as imaginary but that have a vivid history of legend and lore Earthside. Most of the time, they're solitary and keep to themselves. I think I'll keep her. At least I know she'll be safe that way." I absently stroked her fur. "Tell me what happened with the harpy. And you didn't happen to think of cutting off one of her fingers, did you? I could really use it."
The look on his face was priceless. "Oh yeah, demon finger. No, sorry, the thought didn't occur to me. Tell me, just what the hell do you need a demon's finger for anyway?"
"As payment for information. If I don't come up with one, I've got to forfeit one of my own fingers. I forgot to ask you for it earlier, I was in such a hurry to get down out of that damned Needle. I don't ever want to go up there again, by the way," I said, shivering. "I'm afraid of heights, if you haven't figured that out by now. So tell me what you found out."
He stared at me like I was nuts. "You owe somebody a demon's finger as payment for information? What kind of freak show games do you play, Camille? Oh never mind," he quickly added. "I don't want to know. Here's the rundown: the cops backed off when they saw my badge. I contacted the OIA team, so there wasn't much of a problem."
"Well, the agency will damned right know there are demons on the prowl now," I said. "This should convince them we have a real threat. Did they find out anything special about the harpy that we should know about?"
Chase glanced toward the kitchen. "You got anything to drink? I brought their report with me. I put a rush on the autopsy. They didn't bring in a… what did you call it? Corpse Talker… that's it, though."
"They wouldn't. Corpse Talkers have no power over Demonkin."
"Ah, I didn't realize that," he said. "They did bring a wizard with them, though. He was there to… let me see." He consulted the file. "Oh yeah, he was there to examine the demon's magical signature. Make sense to you?"
"That would be standard practice," I said, leaving the table long enough to poke around in the refrigerator. "Lemonade okay? Or would you prefer something harder? Wine? Absinthe—the nectar of the Green Faerie?"
Chase blinked. "Absinthe is illegal."
"Not in Otherworld, and technically, any house of an OIA agent is considered OW territory for as long as we're here. Like an embassy. I can have absinthe on the premises, but I can't take it off our land." One of the few comforts from home, absinthe had originally come Earthside via the Faerie Queen hundreds of years ago. It had been a gift from the Sidhe to mortals.
"Maybe later," Chase said. "I could go for a glass of wine, though. I prefer red, if you have it."
I pulled out a bottle of wine that had been a gift in the last care package our father sent us. It was made from the finest grapes in Otherworld, as rich and as red as blood, and as smooth as brandy. Pouring two glasses, I handed one to Chase and cradled the other in my hand.
He sipped, and his eyes grew round. "I've never tasted anything quite like this," he said, his voice suddenly deepening.
"You're drinking Faerie wine. Now, about the harpy?" I glanced at Maggie, who had finished her meal and curled in a ball on a throw pillow that I'd placed on the table.
"She was a demon, all right, and Jacinth said—do you recognize that name? She's the attendant who worked on the harpy; she also examined Jocko."
I nodded. Jacinth and I knew each other from childhood. She was one of the good ones—she'd never taunted us because of our mixed blood, and I both respected and liked her.
"Jacinth said that it looks like the harpy has only been Earthside a few days, which would coincide with the sighting of the demons coming out of the Wayfarer." He flipped through the report. "It says here that she had a collar on that marks her as being part of something called a Degath Squad."
Oh hell. "The Degath Squads' prime tasks are to scout ahead for information.' That clinches it. Grandmother Coyote is right—Shadow Wing did send scouts in, and they are looking for the spirit seals."
Chase gazed at me, his eyes shrouded and dark. "So what's our next step?"
"Find Tom Lane. Get the seal before they do. Somehow, kill the demons before they get to anybody else. I just hope we manage to find them before they find us."
"You and me both. How long till Delilah comes home?"
"I'll find out," I said, pulling my cell phone out of my purse. I punched in Delilah's number, and she answered on the third ring. "You need to come home," I said. "We found the harpy and killed her."
She sounded relieved. "Thank gods you did, because the harpy got hold of Louise Jenkins before I could get there. I'm on the way home. I'll be there in ten minutes."
"Oh hell, Louise is dead?" I glanced over at Chase, who jerked his head up. He pushed a pad of paper in front of me, and I scribbled Louise's name on it.
"Yeah. Chase might want to send a crew out there. I don't think anybody's missed her because there were no signs of the cops or anything. I used gloves, made sure not to touch a thing with bare hands."
"Chase is already here, so I'll tell him. What's her apartment number again?" I jotted down the information. "Okay, thanks. Say, would you stop and grab a couple of pizzas for dinner? Sausage, ham, pineapple, whatever else you can think of that's good." As I flipped the phone closed, I noticed that little Maggie was breathing deeply, sound asleep.
