Chapter 73

Mari chewed, swallowed and then shook her head. "Judging by what I saw last night, you're selling yourself short. You're strong, you're fast, you have guts, and you're obviously very perceptive. You had me behind that mailbox before I even realized they were shooting. You more than likely saved my life."
Remy shrugged. "As I mentioned before, it's a life well worth saving. But that doesn't change the fact that I've never been the sort of man you'd call in an emergency. Of the four of us, I was always the clown, the comic relief - "
"There are four of you?" Her jaw dropped. "Be still my heart. Have you considered starting a male modeling service?"
He felt a weird pang - was it jealousy? - until he realized she was teasing him. "Four males," he confirmed. "Born within a single year. That was practically a population explosion among my clan. We were raised together, educated together, taught to fight side by side. We're more like brothers than the distant cousins we really are. All our lives we've been told that we had some special destiny - but I never really believed that any part of it would truly depend on me."
He set down his half eaten pizza and drained the last dregs from his soda. "Damien, yes. He was always the strongest, the natural warrior. He's a policeman in Philadelphia now. Beau is the smartest, and a damn good fighter in his own right, while Marc is the handsome one - the prince of our clan."
"And Remy is..." Her tone was soft and sweetly coaxing.
"Remy settled for being the comic relief. The funny one who could occasionally make the other stone-faces crack a smile. I used to draw caricatures of our teachers back in school that made even Beau laugh - and believe me, that was a challenge, even when he was young. Thus a career was born."
"So tell me about your mission."
He nodded and leaned his elbows on his knees. "Once upon a time there were four magical items. They belonged to the ruler of the gargoyle clan and they helped to sustain the magic that kept the species alive and well. About one hundred and fifty years ago, some time after the clan had relocated from southern France to Montreal, there was a power struggle. An upstart gargoyle thought he could steal the regalia - our crown jewels, really - and assume the throne. He eventually failed, but during the struggle the four artifacts were lost - scattered to places unknown."
"And you're supposed to find them?"
"Only one. That's the destiny, it turns out. When the magic that kept our clan healthy began to unravel, one of the things that happened was that our birthrate, which was already slow, dwindled to almost nothing. So when four of us were born in a single year, the elders took it as a sign."
"Four men. Four objects. Makes sense in a magical-karma-ish kind of way." She leaned back against the headboard and waited for him to continue. She was taking all of this much better than he'd ever imagined anyone would.
"So we studied and trained, and did everything we could to turn ourselves into the heroes everyone expected us to be."
"And?"
"And nothing. For nearly sixty years, there wasn't a single damned hint about this so-called magical destiny. All we could do was watch as our families and friends continued to fall apart. For the first time in history, gargoyles began to be susceptible to diseases like cancer and Alzheimer's. I watched my grandmother forget her own name. And here we were, the fucking heroes, just twiddling our thumbs. Beau had a daughter, Giselle. She died trying to make her first transformation when she was twelve. His wife committed suicide just a few months later. Many of our children have failed to survive the change. And that never happened before the regalia was lost." The pain of losing Giselle washed over him again. His grief had been nothing like Beau's, but he had adored the little blonde imp who'd called him uncle.
"I'm sorry, Remy. That's dreadful." She reached over and took his big, inhuman hand in her soft white one. "Go on. What's different now?"
"Now, Lady Helene - one of our elders, and the most powerful seer of our clan - has had a vision. Apparently it is finally time for the artifacts to be found. Either the stars came into the proper alignment, or the world shifted on its axis, or some other nonsense, but she believes that the time has come for us to find and return the four magic items. Or to try, at least. Apparently the odds are still appallingly slim."
"And one of them is here, in Atlantic City? Is that why you came into the shop last night asking about antiques?"
He nodded. "The chalice, or cup, is here, supposedly. Somewhere in this city. But that is the only information I have to go on."
"And it's hard for you to search since you have limited time available. You can only shop between sunset and closing time."
Her quick perception made him smile. "Exactly."
"Well. Luckily you hooked up with someone who isn't allergic to sunlight. If you can give me a description of the chalice, I can go into the shops during the day and look for it." She'd sat up straighter, practically quivering with her desire to be of assistance. "I even know a few of the antique dealers in town. If you can afford to offer a finder's fee, they'll help us do the searching."
"I can do better than a description," he told her. He reached over and pulled open one of the pressboard dresser drawers and took out his computer case. Mari moved the pizza box out of the way while Remy booted up the laptop.
When he flipped it open on the bed between them, Mari gave an appreciative hum. "As soon as I get a real job, I plan on buying one of these puppies. Mine's a beat up refurbished model - not nearly as lightweight or durable. The casino gift shop pays enough to cover rent and tuition, but not shiny new tech toys."
"Here." He enlarged the image on the screen, then turned the computer to face Mari. "See the goblet in the painting? That's the cup."
She nodded as she studied the image, which he knew as well as he knew his own reflection. It was a photo of a painting from two hundred years ago, which still hung in the grand reception hall of the royal family's home. The painting showed a gargoyle seated on a raised platform. His chair wasn't exactly a throne - nothing quite that ostentatious, but the heavy ebony wood armchair was high backed and elaborately carved.