Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
Ms. Smith had asked a friend, a red-haired, green-eyed woman in her early thirties, to attend the meeting at the office. She arrived at the same time as Guerrero. As the elevator doors slid open, he let her step out first.
Don't mistake this for an uncharacteristical outbreak of chivalry.
We're talking Guerrero here.
Walking behind her gave him the opportunity to study her very attractive curves and slender legs quite thoroughly.
"So you're no gargoyle?", Winston addressed her after introductions had been made. He was still trying to figure out how to deal with the whole situation.
Chance, however, was already looking more interested than shocked. Winston knew him well enough to recognize the tiny gleam in his eyes: He was on the verge of getting excited.
"Melinda is a shapeshifting demon", Leda explained.
"Oh, really? What do you shapeshift into?", Winston asked, aiming at polite conversation. This Melinda seemed a bit hostile to him.
"Guess", she hissed and stuck out her tongue. It was split, like a snake's. Guerrero raised an intrigued eyebrow and took in her physical features with even more intensified interest.
… … …
"I've been receiving death threats for about a week." Leda showed them a couple of loose sheets of paper. "I live in an apartment house in Russian Hill. The first two were delivered by mail…"
"Hang on a sec, you're living in an apartment house? With normal neighbors? How do you…?" Winston let the sentence trail off. He wasn't sure how impolite his questions came across, but Leda put him at ease with her fangy version of a smile.
"I know I don't pass for human. Most of the times I go in or out through the window. I'm pretty good at climbing…" She flexed her talons.
It occurred to Chance that for a gargoyle, she was missing one rather important asset – where were her wings? Nevertheless he nodded, silently urging her to continue her story. There would be plenty of time to ask for details later.
"The next four envelopes were pushed directly underneath the door. Someone doesn't only know where I live, whoever it is also knows exactly what I am and where my weaknesses lie."
Chance gave her a puzzled look.
"Gargoyles are nocturnal creatures. Daylight weakens us significantly. Even if we stay in a completely darkened room, if the sun is shining outside, we're practically immobilized."
Guerrero opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Melinda cut him off: "No, they don't turn into ashes when exposed to sunlight. They're just very slow and feeble."
He tilted his head. Not many people dared to cut him off.
Now Winston could see emerging excitement gleam not only in Chance's eyes.
Oh, great.
"Whoever pushed the envelopes underneath my door knew that there was no risk of getting caught during the day." Fangs and talons or not, Leda looked very upset and worried. "Yesterday now someone left a parcel on my doorstep. It contained this…" She reached into the pocket of her trench coat and produced a dead bird.
Yes, you read correctly. She retrieved a dead bird, a blackbird with its wings cut off, to be exactly, from her pocket. No, it wasn't wrapped into anything.
"I know it's shocking." Leda misread the men's reaction, hovering somewhere between disgust (on Winston's side) and intrigued repulsion (on Chance's and Guerrero's part). "Blackbirds symbolize gargoyles in medieval poetry. As you might have noticed, my wings are missing. This bird symbolizes me."
"If you rejoined your pack, they would protect you", Melinda chimed in.
Leda turned to her friend, locked eyes with her, knitted her brow and lifted her upper lip to reveal a little more of her fangs, apparently a gesture of disapproval.
Winston, meanwhile, studied Chance. It was easy to guess what was going on in his head. He would get the opportunity to go one-on-one with supernatural beings. No way he'd let this pass.
"So, are you going to help me?", Leda asked.
"You've got a serious problem, we're in the problem solving business", Chance told her.
"Thank you", she smiled, revealing her fangs once more. Then she eyed the bird. "Are you going to run some sort of laboratory tests on it?"
"No", Winston replied, "I don't think so. Our approach is less CSI, more Shaft."
A split second later she had engulfed the complete bird, feathers and all. "I hate food going to waste", she explained.