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Brood of a New Age
13.
Luca had not yet figured out how the public transportation in New York works. That's why he arrived at his hotel when the sun had already disappeared half an hour behind the horizon, although he had always tried to be there when his friends woke up. He could have called Grace right after sunset, but in the subway he hadn't had any signal, and then he thought it was ridiculous to call just to say he'd be there in five minutes. It was only a short walk from the subway station to the hotel.
He walked through the lobby where the concierge asked him like every day if the maid should clean his room tomorrow. And like the last days Luca politely denied. Even his fresh towels and sheets were always placed in front of the door and he always took his used laundry to the staff himself. He had told people an absurd story about paranoia, privacy and cleanliness neuroses. But as mentioned - this was New York. One more lunatic didn't matter anymore.
In the meantime, the staff had to consider him an unwashed cliché European. Just to give the cleaning lady no reason to burst into his room during the day while he was away and find the strange statues on his terrace, he had asked for a vacuum cleaner, hand shovel and bucket himself yesterday. Of course, he had to clean up the debris caused by two full-grown gargoyles while it was still a manageable amount. Dante would have thrown the bucket at his head if he had asked him to do something like that, because at the Della Marra estate, they had always cleaned up after the in-house killer.
Grace would have swept up her mess, but Luca didn't want her to crawl around on the floor undignified. He was happy to do it for her. He was not one of those mindless macho men who thought women were created to clean. Human women weren't, and gargoyle women certainly weren't. HIS queen in any case would not have to bother with such trifles. Not while he could still crawl. Just getting the dust and debris filled bucket across the lobby was difficult. He was lucky that yesterday a group of tourists had just kept the concierge busy and so he had been able to dispose of the rubble in the dumpster behind the hotel without being noticed.
Luca took the elevator to his floor. Probably the gargoyles would have flown out by now, he thought, and still used the knocking sign they had agreed on months before, just to be on the safe side. One for Luca when he came and was alone. One for the unlikely case that he came and was not alone, which would cause the two gargoyles to leave immediately.
His final knock had not yet been made when suddenly the door was yanked open. A red face framed by beautiful black hair greeted him. However, not cheerfully but with wide open eyes. Grace dragged him by the collar into the room, threw the door shut and pressed herself against him. No! She did not press herself against him! She hugged him -so roughly that his spine and ribs cracked from the sudden pressure.
"Where have you been?" she cried shrilly, fear in her voice. Luca struggled in her arms. It hurt- but it was also somehow nice to feel his lady of heart pressed against him like that. And she had been afraid for him? He was a policeman, not a civilian who couldn't take care of himself.
But just that this wonderful woman had cared about him was magical for him.
"Grace, you're squeezing the stuffing out of our human" Dante remarked from behind her. Luca looked over her shoulder and the gray gargoyle was glaring at him while the last third of an apple, including core, stalk and seeds, disappeared into his beak.
But his saying at least made his sister let go of Luca. She kept her hands on his upper arms and Luca tried to smile - unburdened by the pain (and tensed a little the muscles in his arms ... only that ... his opposite noticed that there were muscles). He didn't like that she was worried because it showed that she thought he might be in more danger in this town than she or her brother. But Luca just had to grin at her fearful expression. Love- no. Probably not. But deep affection. Somehow - in a very strange way - a part of the family. He put a hand on one of her arms.
"I was only half an hour late. I'm sorry, Grace. I would have called, but there was no signal on the subway. If I'm late again, please don't worry."
"I'm glad you said that- in the half hour since we've been up, she's almost run a hole in the carpet. And I had to stop her a dozen times to flutter off like a worried mama chick looking for you. What have you there?" Dante's gaze lowered to the bags Luca had been carrying and had lost during Eva's display of worry.
Luca bent down and carried the bags to the small table.
"I know it's not going well with finding the others. We've been here a week and haven't found any solid traces of gargoyles yet. That's why I thought I'd cheer you up with some good food."
As Dante approached with interest, Grace smiled. At the same time, her look had something reproachful.
"You've done a good job of filling our fridge, Luca. You don't have to do anything more for us."
"I wanted to, Grace. And be honest, this supermarket food from America is just ... it takes some getting used to. This is a little pick-me-up for all of us. Today I was first in little Italy where I got the idea to get us some of this."
Dante looked down at the purchases in genuine amazement, his nose twitching as if picking up scent, then nodded and said almost approvingly, "So, Luca. Sometimes I find you downright tolerable. Finally something decent to eat. The day before yesterday that pizza was an insult to my palate. Giuliano wouldn't have fed me that on his meanest days."
He stepped aside as Dante reached into one of the bags and began to retrieve the cardboard and Styrofoam boxes and spread them out on the table. With the Gray one doing the unpacking, he and Grace were able to talk.
"It came to my attention that there's a newer little Italy in the Bronx, which is where I got this," he said with a raised index finger. "That's where I'm going to start asking around for gargoyles among these compatriots in the next few days."
"But just so it's still safe for -."
"Oh, here's Babà! Eva- eat."
Her brother shoved the round Italian pastry into her mouth and, chewing, she gave him an annoyed look. "I don't want you to run into Quarrymen," she said with her mouth full but her hand placed over it.
"I'll watch out," Luca said, chuckling.
"This-this almost tastes like home!" exclaimed Dante in the background.
"I've found wonderful Italian delis on Arthur Street," Luca commented. "I was only on the periphery because it was late but at one of them the owner is Neapolitan. He was so nice, his wife didn't even want me to leave and invited me to dinner."
"Delightful that you're connecting here right away - Fritto Mistro! I'll be damned!" gasped Dante, befuddled and delighted, as he continued to work his way through the contents of the wrappers like a bloodhound.
"Dante, at least heat up your food. We have a microwave," Grace chided.
"And Sfogliatella! Here, try this - you like the variety with shortcrust better, don't you?"
He shoved a piece of the cake into her mouth. She chewed two three times and had to admit - it was very good. Luca knew it. He had been forced by the shopkeepers to taste everything before buying.
"Do the people in old Little Italy know anything about our kind?" she asked after swallowing.
Luca shook his head. "Remarkably little. Even if I had there the advantage of the common language, many stores and apartments are no longer even in the hands of Italians -"
"Gattò di patate - Gesù, Giuseppe e Maria!"
"- and if they are, the subject seems scary to them," Luca finished the sentence. Finally he had found something that made Dante an ardent person. It was really weird that it was the food of their home. Or ... it wasn't weird at all. And it had only cost just under a hundred dollars.
"Ohhh, spaghetti with anchovy sauce!"
Grace had been about to say something a moment ago, but now growled at him for interrupting them again. "Grrr Dante, you let the adults here do the talking." He muttered something indefinable while, without bothering with the microwave, he scooped noodles dripping with sauce straight from the package into his beak. God, did they have to work on his table manners before they found the gargoyles so that he didn't completely alienate the others? They were Italians! They had invented manners when the barbarians were still sitting on the trees.
"If hardly anyone wants to talk to you about it, we'll never find out where their new hideout is," she then said very seriously and Luca frowned as he went to the kitchen counter to get plates and cutlery for Grace and himself at least.
"It's hard to tell whether these people are afraid of gargoyles or of Quarrymen. I could be face to face with a familiar of your kind and not know it. These Quarrymen are a problem. No wonder the others are keeping a low profile."
"Miller has already said that they are not good at murder. That's clear if they'd rather hide in the dark than make every one of them a head shorter," returned Dante, who had now switched to frittata di friarielli.
Grace and Luca both rolled their eyes at this at the same time, which made them both chuckle. But they still didn't find it funny. The fact that Dante had already displayed his mobster attitude on the first night to get information out of an innocent person could have ended very badly for one or both of them.
"How about this," the gray brother said unusually matter-of-factly and conciliatory due to the mountains of good food "we kill a few of them - Quarrymen,I mean -, place their heads in plain sight on, say, the roof of the World Trade Center or that creepy castle of that rich Xanawhateverguy, staple a note to one of them on the forehead where we can meet and then- What? Why are you all looking at me like that? I thought anything goes in brainstorming?"
"We should adjust that rule. Mass murder shouldn't be an option," Luca advised, handing Grace the insalata di rinforzo he already knew she liked from Italy. Her grateful smile was balm for his soul.
"Also- if you fly such "gifts" to the castle- I think they call the place the Eyrie Building- you may well get shot down before you even touch down there."
"Why is that? Do they have snipers?" He patted Grace on the back. "Our Sniper is better than anything the Bigwit has to offer."
Luca reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his mini guidebook, flipping to the right page.
"My travel guide says: 'The Erie Building, although the basic structure of the Scottish medieval fortress has been preserved, has been equipped with all kinds of technical refinements from underfloor heating to its own in-building power plant and sewage treatment plant to a sophisticated security system that includes weapons and panic room and automatic firing systems in case of aerial threats."
"Aucomacic firin chychdems?" repeated Dante indistinctly with his mouth full before swallowing. "Shit, Then we can at least cross one place off the list where the others might be hiding. One skyscraper of what feels like ten million."
"If they even have their new lair above ground," Grace muttered.
"What do you mean?"
"You took the subway today, Luca. New York has a huge underground rail and sewer system. Maybe they dwell there." She picked at her salad with a displeased expression on her face while Luca ate the first bites of his Margaritha pizza (with real basil leaves!) and Dante shook his head in irritation.
"Under the earth? That's disgusting. Please sister, don't tell me we have to look down there, too."
"Desperate times call for desperate measures. And as dangerous as it is above street level with all these scared aggressive people- ."
"-who could blame them?" finished Luca her sentence.
"If these creeps have reverted to sewer rats, I don't know if I want to join them."
"More important would be the question of whether they even WANT you to join their family."
Luca grinned at Dante, who, obviously mollified by the meal, pointed not angrily but proudly at his chest. "Are you kidding! I'm a jackpot! Aside from my skills, I'm entertaining, cool, AND kids are thrilled with me. I can teach knife tricks to that little olive green gremlin we saw on TV with the others back in the day - if he's still alive."
"Just what loving parents want. When a scarred rough uncle who was once a gangster teaches their kid how to stab people," Grace said flatly.
Dante, presumably having satisfied the most pressing cravings, leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms with a smirk.
"I think I'm just what this other family has been lacking. Just you wait, sis."
Actually, I had imagined Dante (aka Fiore aka Adamo) to be a much quieter, truly tortured character. But he's just such a delightful contrast to everyone who is or wants to be decent. Of course, he has his introverted moments where you can tell what traumatic experiences he's been through, but when people are there to distract him (or trigger him in a good or bad way) he'll show other sides. I have a lot of fun with the cheeky troublemaker.
Thanks for reading Q.T.