Later that night, Marc lounged in the armchair beside his own bed and watched his uninvited guest as she slept. She'd eaten some soup and a piece of toast. Physically she seemed to be recovering with a speed that would have been stunning if she'd been human. Harpy, she'd told him before she'd fallen back asleep. The one thing she could remember about her life was that she was a harpy. He looked down at her sleeping form and smiled. So much for his idea that harpies were ugly.
And she'd known about gargoyles. That fact had stunned him. She couldn't tell him how she knew but somehow she knew what he was the minute he'd mentioned his wings. She was proving to be a far greater puzzle than the book of Sudokus he'd brought with him to while away the hours. Did she really have amnesia? Or was it
