by Judith Post
Behind her, a man cleared his throat. She jumped. She hadn’t heard him approach. She whirled again, her fingernails shooting out, curling into claws. She stopped abruptly. He stood, hands behind his back, rocking back and forth on his heels, staring up at the cathedral’s roofline too.
“Anything interesting up there?” he asked. “You’ve been staring at it for a while.”
Her breath caught in her throat. She’d never met a man who made her knees want to buckle, but he was it. She was tall. He had her by half a foot—several inches taller than Jason. He looked so solid, she suspected it would hurt if she bumped into him. And his face was all planes and angles that connected into swoon-worthy. Black hair. Gray eyes. He made male models look mediocre.
He grinned. Heart stopping. Oh, Zeus! “Are you okay?”
She found her voice. “Fine, just looking at the gargoyles.”
He frowned, studying them. “Fine art work, aren’t they?”
She gave a curt nod. It wasn’t like her to make small talk with strangers. Especially now. She gave a quick sniff and took a step backward.
He pressed his lips together. “My scent—I was wondering if you’d notice.”
She moved farther away. “You’re not human.”
“Neither are you, but I never knew until last night. Want to tell me what happened in the parking lot?”
Her eyes narrowed. She could feel the yellow seep into them. Not good. It was her usual weapon of choice, but she didn’t know if she was under attack. “Why should I? Who are you? What are you?”
He kept his hands behind his back. He was either feeling very safe, or he was really stupid. He didn’t strike her as mentally deficient. He gave an elaborate shrug. “I’m Dante. I’m a gargoyle—a guardian. I work with the police to keep the city safe from Others. You never struck me as dangerous until I saw you in action.”
He saw her shift? Then he knew what she was. “The warlock attacked me.”
“I saw.”
She cocked her head to the side, studying him. “Then you know I defended myself and left. The cops found another body.”
“A werewolf. I’ve been hunting him for a while now. A mercenary. He was waiting in the wings in case his friend failed. They work together. Worked is more accurate.”
“Did you kill him?”
“He wasn’t on guard, thanks to you. That made it easy.”
“He was a Were.”
“I mentioned that.”
“They’re hard to kill.”
Another grin. “I’d have bet money on you. You were pretty impressive.”
Ally took a deep breath. She was getting confused. She needed to think. “But why? Why did they come after me?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.” Dante’s dark brows furrowed in thought. “Are you good or evil? Did you piss off somebody?”
“I don’t kill unless it’s self-defense. And I stay pretty much to myself. I don’t know how anyone knew I was here. And I never piss off people.” A partial truth. She wasn’t especially sweet and accommodating, so she’d guess there were plenty of people who’d rather not deal with her. But kill her? Not likely.
“Those two have been in Summit City a long time, and they’ve never bothered you before. They don’t bother anyone unless they’re paid. Someone hired them. Have you met someone new lately?”
Jason’s image flashed to mind. Dante’s thoughts were taking the same turns hers had—it had to be someone she’d met, someone who recognized what she was. “I’ve started seeing someone lately.”
“A human?”
She frowned. “I thought so. He doesn’t smell like anything I’ve met before.”
“Can you describe his scent?” He shook his head. “I know, not easy. How do you describe apple pie to someone who’s never smelled it?”
“I can tell you what he’s not. He’s not Were, witch, warlock, vampire, shape-shifter, or you.” Dante smelled good too, but in an intensely masculine way.
He looked up and down the street. It was a mild, star-filled night. There was a baseball game at the downtown stadium, and they could hear the cheers when someone made it to base. People were coming and going. “Are you hungry?”
She shook her head. He’d shifted gears too fast for her. “You want to eat instead of talk?”
“I thought we might manage both. We look sort of conspicuous standing here. People tend to stare at me. We’d blend more if we were in a group.”
She doubted that. He was too good-looking to blend. And she’d been told she wasn’t half bad, herself, in her mortal form. That’s what had gotten her in trouble in the first place. She gave a quick nod. “I could use a snack and a drink. I can pay.”
His eyes lit with amusement. “What? You think gargoyles need charity? We’ve been around as long as you have. We’ve probably amassed as much money too.”
She glanced at his pockets. “How do you keep cash on hand? Aren’t you usually stone?”
“We manage.” He led her to the Italian restaurant she’d fled to last night and found a table on the outside patio. This time, she read the menu, wondering what she might order.
He watched her as she told the waitress she’d like bruschetta and chianti. He ordered an antipasti plate with cabernet.
His gaze unsettled her. “What?” she snapped. “You’re staring.”
“I thought Perseus killed you.”
She sighed. How often had she heard that before? “That was my sister, Medusa, the only mortal in our family.”
“So, she would have died if Perseus didn’t kill her first?”
“Her snakes were already graying. Old age sucks. Maybe, in a way, it was a blessing. Who runs a nursing center for creaking Gorgons?” Ally leaned back in her chair, getting comfortable. She wasn’t worried about being overheard. There were too many people, too many conversations at the other tables.
Dante smiled. It was a nice smile, not mocking like some men’s. Not that Jason ever mocked. He seemed sincere too. Seemed, being the key word. “I knew Medusa had two sisters. I guess I just lost track of them.”
“Everyone did, thank Zeus. Just because she insulted Athena didn’t mean that Stheno and I should be punished too.”
Dante stretched his long legs under the table. A girl nearby, gossiping with three friends, tried to snag his gaze, but he deftly avoided her—a practiced move. He leaned closer to Ally. “Remind me what happened. It’s been a long time since I heard the story.”
The waitress came with their orders. They were silent until she left.
While he bit into a slice of mortadella, Ally picked up her wine glass. Her hand shook, but she steadied it. Ancient history. It never improved with the telling. And it never improved her mood. “No story. All three of us were considered beautiful. Medusa had a thing for Poseidon. Thought it would be fun to dally with a god a few steps higher up the ladder than Dad, but she pushed her luck. She was a priestess at Athena’s temple, so decided to meet him there. When Athena caught them, my sister bragged that she was more beautiful than the goddess, and the next thing you knew, we were all cursed.” Ally could still relive the horror of that moment, watching her body shift, the scales cover her, and feeling her hair come alive and begin to writhe. Her sisters were going through the same transition. She knew what she’d look like—mirror images of them. Monsters.
Dante frowned. “Athena cursed you because of your beauty?”
“Lateral damage. Leftover rage. Because no one insults a god. But Medusa was just being stupid. Sometimes, she overcompensated, that’s all.”
“You still love her, even after she got you cursed.”
“She was the youngest, a little impetuous.”
He leaned back again, reached for some prosciutto. “And Stheno?”
Ally glanced away, down to the ground. It was still hard to talk about. “Gone.”
“I thought she was immortal.”
“Which means we don’t age, but we can be killed. You should know that. Can’t you b
e attacked and destroyed?”
He rubbed his chin. Long fingers. Chiseled profile. “It’s damn hard. Doesn’t happen often. But we can lose faith. Get disheartened. And then we revert back to our original form, hardened with doubt and despair.”
She blinked. “You really were carved?”
“And placed on rooftops to divert water away from buildings and to watch over churches, until our cities breathed life into us. Then we became guardians.”
“And you’re nearly indestructible?”
He shrugged. “Nearly. It’s like hammering away at stone. It can be done, but it takes effort.”
“Could I destroy you?” At his surprised glance, she hurried to explain. “It’s a fair question. Whoever killed Stheno murdered her for her head, just like Perseus took Medusa’s.”
“You think that’s why someone’s after you.”
“It’s a strong possibility.”
“Then I’m safe. Your gaze turns people to stone. No problem for me. Been there, done that. I shift back almost every night.”
He sounded so reasonable, she couldn’t help it. She laughed. She clamped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. That was rude.”
“So what happened to Stheno?” He popped an olive in his mouth.
Her good mood vanished. “I told you. Someone found her, killed her, and began turning enemies to stone.”
“Do you know who did it?”
“No.”
“Did you know when she died?”
“I felt it right away, an emptiness. I knew she was gone. Athena did too. She found the body.”
“No head?”
“No, and new statues of immortals began cropping up here and there.”
He scooted closer to place his hand over hers. His voice held sympathy. “Sorry. That’s what they did with Medusa, isn’t it?”
“Until Athena placed her in her shield.” Ally never looked at that shield. All she saw was her sister gazing back at her. Still a monster.
“And you think that’s why mercenaries came after you?”
“My head’s a great weapon once I shift.”
“So what are you going to do about it?”
The question surprised her. “Try to survive. If I can destroy whoever’s after me, I might even be able to stay here, in Summit City.”
“That’s it? That’s enough for you? Just to hide and survive?”
She could feel the scowl settle on her face. What did he expect from her? “What else is there?”
“You could join us, help us fight rogues, Others who’ve gone bad.”
Ally stared. “Wouldn’t that be like announcing that there’s one more gorgon left in the world?”
Dante shifted in his chair, and females at surrounding tables followed his motions. He seemed oblivious to their attention. “Not really. Have you read or heard rumors about us? And you’re different from what I expected. I didn’t realize you could take a mortal form.”
Ally swallowed another sip of wine. She wasn’t buying what he was selling. People might not gawk at broken necks or bashed skulls, but they tended to remember myriad puncture wounds and deadly poison. Or mortals turned to stone. He went on before she could answer. “Could Medusa shift back and forth like you do?”
A safe topic. “No, we couldn’t for a long time either, but Athena finally took mercy on Stheno and me, realized we hadn’t done anything to deserve our curse. She couldn’t completely remove it, but she could lessen it.”
He leaned even closer, within touch. And boy, was he touch worthy. She’d been alone for…. How long? Too many lifetimes. She inhaled. He smelled musky, of the earth. But his words brought her back to the matter at hand. “Is anyone immune from your gaze?”
Get a grip, she told herself. Too many emotions were warring within her right now. Stick to business. “Only full-fledged gods. Everyone else—men, demi-gods, and immortals—they’re all in trouble.”
He was silent a moment, thinking. Finally, he shook his head. “You’re right. You’d make a great weapon.”
“Thanks.” Pain twisted her guts. It made air trap inside her, unable to release. She’d been a happy, beautiful girl once with suitors lined up to win her hand. Her parents were deities. She had riches, love, and hope. Then….nothing. She wouldn’t blame Medusa. Her sister was young, cocky and full of herself, gorged on her beauty and blessings, when she’d made that stupid boast. And Ally couldn’t blame Athena either. No one goads a god. And finally, after decades of misery, the goddess had relented and reverted Stheno and her to their former appearance, reversing the curse as much as she could.
Ally took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. The next piece of the puzzle bothered her almost as much as the first. “The thing is, who’d know what I am? How could anyone spot me?”
“Well, you are hard to miss.” Dante’s grin returned. “You are pretty damned gorgeous.”
Her jaw dropped. She could feel it. Dante kept throwing her off balance. “But how would someone know I’m a Gorgon?”
There, she’d said it—twice in one night—the words that rarely passed her lips. Dante frowned. “It could only be your scent. You’ve never shifted here before, have you?”
“No.”
His frown deepened. “I understand your question—who’d know the scent of Gorgon? I’ve never met one before, wouldn’t know how to place it.”
Ally stiffened. She could feel her nerves tense, her body poise for flight. “It could only be someone who met one of my sisters.” Perhaps killed them?
“Not someone from your past?”
“I’d recognize their scent, just like they did mine.”
“Perseus died of old age,” Dante said. “He was placed in the constellations beside his wife, Andromeda, and her mother, Cassiopeia. So I’m thinking no one who killed Medusa, would be around to know her scent.”
His knowledge astounded her. “What are you—an encyclopedia of myths and legends?”
Dante laughed. “No, but I have total recall. A photographic memory. I’d rule out anyone who knew Medusa. They’d be long gone. That leaves whoever killed Stheno.”
Ally gripped her silverware too tightly and the fork bent in two. “All I’ve been told is that magic was involved.”
The waitress came with their check, and Dante handed her enough cash to include a generous tip. When she left, he shrugged, trying to lighten the mood. “We’ve talked shop enough for one night. When I’m with you, you’re safe. When I’m not, you might not be. What are you doing tomorrow night?”
“I’m meeting Jason at Lester’s.”
“The same Jason that was going to meet you last night?”
Ally nodded.
“What time?”
“Eight.”
“When you walk out of the restaurant, it’ll be twilight. Supernatural hours.”
“I’ve thought of that. I can handle it.” This time, there’d be no element of surprise. She’d be ready.
“Really? All by yourself?”
“I’m tougher than you think. I have a few surprises up my sleeve.” She wasn’t just a Gorgon girl. She’d had plenty of lifetimes to perfect new skills.
He wasn’t impressed, she could tell. He pushed away from the table and came to help her with her chair. “I’ll be on the restaurant’s roof, waiting and watching. Together, we’d be hard to beat.”
A knot tied and untied in her stomach. She hadn’t realized how alone she usually felt. She envied him his fellow gargoyles, his friends on the police force, his connections, but she was safer on her own. She’d learned that over the years. “Thanks, but no thanks. I take care of myself.”
He started down the street, back in the direction of the cathedral. “You never told me what Jason smells like.”
A distraction. He’d shifted the topic. “I don’t want….”
“Is it a strong scent?”
Oh, hell, why not tell him? “Fresh-cut grass and meadow flowers.”
The girls who kept glancing in his direction lo
oked disappointed as he wrapped an elbow through hers. “Interesting.”
“Why?”
“A cemetery.”
She frowned. He was right. That was exactly what Jason smelled like. “Ghosts can’t harm me.”
“More things live in graveyards than ghosts. I want to meet your Jason. I keep thinking Jason and the Golden-Fleece, but I have a feeling your hero is no hero at all. You’d better keep your head.” He smiled at his tacky joke.
Ally glared at him. “Not funny.”
“You’re just grumpy tonight. I’d walk you home, but you wouldn’t appreciate it. I’ll be on the roof tomorrow. If nothing happens, you won’t see me. Let’s hope for the best.”
“Like never seeing you?”
“No hope of that.” He gave her a quick, level gaze. “Even if you’re not in danger, I might drop by. Just in the line of duty, of course.”
She groaned. “Drop by. Is that more gargoyle humor?”
“We’re a witty lot. Take care. You’re a target. Let’s try to keep you alive.”
With that, she and Dante parted ways. He walked to the end of the block, then disappeared. Did he leap to a rooftop? Duck down an alley? She wasn’t sure. But she did know one thing. The thought of seeing him again made her pulse quicken.
Chapter 4
Ally took more time than usual getting ready for her date. Lester’s demanded a step up from casual wear. She tugged on a knee-length, flirty skirt, then took it off and tossed it on her bed. If she had to shift, long skirts hid the long, scaly tail that formed when her legs fused together and lengthened. Faster than running. She could move like a sidewinder.
She dug deeper in her closet and found a black, rayon skirt that hugged her slim hips and kicked out at her ankles. She chose red, strappy sandals and a clingy red tee that showed off her flat torso. She even took a few minutes to apply makeup. The clothes would survive a shift, but might not make it through a battle, so she jammed a long, short-sleeved dress into her oversized purse, just in case. The sandals? Once her toenails grew, before they became rattles at the end of her tail, the shoes were goners.
She went blocks out of her way to pass the cathedral before heading to the restaurant. This time, she stopped, dumbfounded. No gargoyles adorned its roof. Not a one. How many mercenaries did Dante think Jason would send for her?
