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Brood of a New Age
9.
Luca awoke to pigeon cooing.
He grumbled and rubbed his face against his pillow. After a few seconds he remembered that he was no longer in his apartment in Naples. He had been able to move back in after Della Marra's organization crumbled. The gangsters, who were now waiting in the wings to split Naples among themselves again - if necessary with a toll of blood - obviously didn't have him on their radar. But with information on all of Della Marra's contacts (his inhuman children excluded), the police would have the upper hand in the Naples region for many months, if not years. Hopefully.
Luca rose with cracking bones and sat dazed on the edge of the bed for a few moments. His leg had healed without a problem But even months after his cast was removed, his arm still ached sporadically. He had had to do rebuilding exercises with the youngsters in his old boxing gym over and over again to get his old strength back. But especially after nights like the last one, he felt it sting again. Jetlag AND a unfamiliar bed were not a good combination. The room was warm and stuffy. Luca squinted in the direction of the patio door. Glaring streaks of daylight fell into the room through the drawn curtains. He picked up his wristwatch. Almost two o'clock at noon! How quickly a man's internal clock changed when he adapted his life to nocturnal creatures for a few months. God, he needed a coffee, pronto.
But first, the most important thing. He got up, walked to the patio door and opened it. He jerked back briefly because four fat pigeons were startled by him and fluttered away cooing loudly. They had obviously liked their new perch on the gargoyle statues out here. Relieved that Grace and Dante had made it up here in the morning and a little annoyed that one of the pigeons had pooped on his sweetheart's wing, he stepped out onto the balcony in only his underpants. They were on the twelfth floor, but the skyscraper that had been built right next to the hotel was ten stories higher and obscured the view of the street beyond. Still, sunlight fell on the terrace at this hour. Luca was already sweating. He was Italian but had not thought that North America and New York could be so hot in summer. On the other hand - a lot of concrete. It heated up quickly.
He wiped away the smudge on Grace's wing. His queen looked like an angel even in her scary sleeping position. An angry angel with bared teeth and splayed claws. Then he looked at Dante and grinned. The effect of his demonic stance was somehow lessened by the pigeon droppings on his beak. Ohhh, Luca would never be able to tell him that - the hothead would probably start a deadly war against every pigeon in New York he could find. Luca knew he wouldn't be able to do anything about pigeons leaving their mark on his friends. Could he call Dante a friend? Well, for simplicity's sake, he just did - inwardly. Both Dante and Luca currently lacked friends, so two guys who weren't even of the same species and who only got together through circumstances were the next best thing to friends both would find.
When the currently off-duty detective went back inside, he saw the card stuck in the door handle of the patio door. He took it and spread it out. Already two districts of Manhattan were crossed out. Of course Hells Kitchen where their hotel was. And Chelsea just below it. Crossed out in red felt-tip pen. Which meant that Grace and Dante had found no evidence of gargoyles there. As they had agreed, the gargoyles would work their way down the island first, then back up. District by district. Even if they managed two districts a night, it could take them weeks. And that was ONLY Manhattan. Luca had known it would be hard, but only now that he saw those sad two red crosses - on that big map - did he suspect what kind of task they were tackling here. How likely would it be that they stumbled upon the other gargoyles by chance? If the city was full of people hostile to them and these Quarrymen could really pose a deadly threat.
But he could not give in to his doubts and worries now. He had to work day after day and night after night to be a helpful support in the mission to find companions for Grace and Dante. But for now, to be functional, he needed coffee. And something to eat. He went back inside, showered, shaved, and pulled clothes out of his suitcase. Just because the view was atrocious and the top floor reminded him of a furnace - which the hotel staff had already pointed out to him on the phone - didn't mean that the hotel was bad. There was even an ironing board with iron and a small kitchenette with coffee machine, two hot plates and refrigerator. Luca ironed one of his T-shirts and got dressed, grabbed his wallet and was ready to tackle New York starting with the first cafe that looked like it sold acceptable coffee and brioche or whatever.
The cafe was no problem. For an Italian, of course, Starbucks was ... not ideal. But he couldn't be too picky. He hadn't expected to be able to have a proper La prima Colazione on the one hand because he was MUCH too late for breakfast specials but also because this was America. If he wanted to hold on to high culture, he would have had to stay in Italy. And he wouldn't even start getting querulous now like Dante. So he settled for a mediocre cappuccino and two donuts before heading out to find information about gargoyles.
If he were in Naples, he would have had information networks. On the one hand through bribery but also by calling in favors. That's how it worked in Italy. But here he didn't even have the advantage of speaking the same language as the main population or being able to show his badge. He even feared that it might be harmful to squeeze information out of potential informants by waving his badge. His Italian Neapolitan badge, was worth nothing here except that word would get out that a questionable Italian, fresh off the boat, was on the lookout for gargoyles. He didn't want to attract the attention of the Quarrymen or the local police.
So he started with the easiest. He first familiarized himself with a small part of New York and wandered through Hells Kitchen and Chelsea. To be precise, he had planned to explore all the neighborhoods that his friends had searched from above during the night. Of course not street by street, because he would be on the road for months and would run himself flat feet. But he took the city in itself. The speed, smell and sounds, the mentality. Everything here was just ... exhausting. Luca had thought Italians were sometimes loud - Naples was loud and hectic. New York, its traffic and its inhabitants were in no way inferior to Naples. At the same time, however, he missed the never-learned but ever-present Mediterranean way of life of letting things come to you or approaching something with equanimity and composure.
In New York, on the other hand, everyone seemed rushed. Even now in the afternoon where the morning rush hour had long passed and the evening rush hour had not yet begun. Luca tried two or three times to ask someone for directions, but most people ignored him and hurriedly continued on their way. Where were all these people going? That wasn't so bad - Luca was more drifting anyway than really looking for this place or that building. Often his gaze went upwards. Or into an alley or a presumably hardly frequented courtyard. If someone would follow him, he would probably either make a rather lost impression or a very suspicious one. But at this point it paid off that New York was not a small city. People didn't care if someone was acting strange. Or crazy. Many simply lowered their eyes and hurried on.
Luca could imagine how it was possible that the New York Gargoyles had been living in the city for years and no one had discovered them until last year. In New York, the unusual was the norm, strangeness was ignored, and no one had ever looked up into the sky unless they had a serious reason to do so, especially at night. Even on this sunny summer day, it didn't seem that New York was afflicted by a "monster plague." Everyone appeared "normal" - as far as he could tell what normal was. At least not panicked or worried. At a newsstand he asked the saleswoman which magazines and newspapers were about Quarrymen and Gargoyles - emphasizing that as a tourist he should know which neighborhoods to avoid.
The lady laughed and said he would have to leave Manhattan completely because gargoyle activity was everywhere. But the Quarrymen were also almost everywhere and she bragged that her husband was one of those fighters against these disgusting creatures. Luca pretended to be interested although he really wanted to shove one of her own newspapers down the woman's throat - but he was a gentleman as his mother had raised him too. But his good mien- and perhaps a little feigned Italian charm- got him the tip to check the archives of the New York Public Library if he wanted to get a picture of the gargoyle situation. And so he did. His luck was that it was Thursday and the library was open longer. Nevertheless, he did not find enough time to look through the scanned articles of all newspapers (he limited himself to New York newspapers and magazines) in the archive computer and decided to come back the next day.
He had to leave because he had to buy food and other small things for his fellow travelers and himself.
Thanks for reading, Q.T.