Kate didn’t say anything at first, and I worried that she didn’t know what to say because she did think I was partly to blame for Rachael’s death. “That day was hard for all of us—especially for Ethan,” she finally said. “But Ethan wants to fight with us, and he knows that Rachael’s death wasn’t your fault. He wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
“Thank you.” I forced a smile, not wanting to talk about this any longer. Nothing we said could change anything. What happened to Rachael was in the past. “Anyway, I hope you’re honest with Chris,” I said, bringing the conversation back to where we’d started. “Because while I obviously can’t know for sure, I think he has feelings for you, too.”
“Really?” she asked, a smile creeping onto her face.
“Really,” I assured her. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t believe it.”
“Then I’ll do it,” she said. “Maybe not tonight—we have a lot to do tonight—but I won’t wait until the portal is sealed. You’re right that too much can happen between now and then. And if he does feel the same way… then I want to take advantage of every moment we have together.”
I smiled, happy that she’d decided to be brave and put herself out there. This would work out between them—I knew it.
Now I just needed to take my own advice and be honest about my feelings for Blake.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
A limo arrived to pick us up—and not a regular limo, like the kind people took to prom. This was an Escalade super stretch limo that easily fit all eight of us plus our duffel full of weapons and shields. The inside was so fancy that it had black marble tiled floors. I felt like I was inside a living room—not a car.
“How are we going to get our weapons into the event?” I asked once we situated ourselves in the limo. “I assume there’ll be security. I doubt they’ll let us stroll in with a bag full of swords.”
“It’s clear that you’re new to our world, because you’re thinking like a human—not a like a witch,” Jason said. “Our driver, Raul, is our bodyguard for the night. He’s also a witch, and I work with him regularly. We’ll get the bag inside. Then, when the civilians clear out for the private meet and greet, you can retrieve your weapons and fight.”
“What if Medusa has her own guards?” Kate asked. She sat so close to Chris that her arm brushed against his. He angled himself even closer to her—he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her since he first saw the “new her” in the foyer that evening.
“Jason and I will use our abilities to convince the humans to leave before the private meet and greet,” Hypatia said. “Including any of her guards.”
“I didn’t mean human guards,” Kate clarified. “What if she has other creatures working for her? They can’t be compelled.”
“I doubt she will,” Hypatia said. “Medusa is feared amongst all creatures. She only has two allies—her sisters—and they were locked in Kerberos after the Second Rebellion. We’ve traced the creatures who have escaped the portal so far, and her sisters were not among them.”
“And if she managed to team up with any monsters and she does have guards, we’ll fight them,” Blake said. “We’ve got this.”
“I know.” Kate nodded, although her voice wavered. “I just wish we were able to bring in our guns.”
“You know why we can’t,” I said. “Guns are too volatile. One wrong shot could end up in Medusa’s head. We can’t risk damaging it like that.”
“Arrows are volatile, too,” Ethan said. “But that didn’t stop you from packing them and your bow in that duffel.”
“That’s different,” I told him.
“Really?” He raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”
I stiffened at the challenge in Ethan’s eyes. Why was he giving me a hard time about this now? The group had agreed that it was best for me to bring my bow and arrows with us. But before I could snap back a retort, Blake’s hand wrapped around mine, calming me down.
“Nicole knows not to shoot Medusa’s head,” Blake said, his voice firm. “And we’ve all seen her shoot. She doesn’t miss.”
“Or you haven’t seen her miss yet,” Ethan said. “What if it happens for the first time tonight? We need that head. And like you said, we can’t risk damaging it.”
“What do you want me to do?” I asked. “Take my weapon out of the duffel and leave it in the car?” I reached for the bag and yanked the zipper open, unsure why I was even doing this. I was far more skilled with the bow than I was with any other weapon. But Ethan had a good point. Why should I take in my bow, while Kate had to leave her gun at home? It really wasn’t fair. And I shouldn’t expect special treatment just because my godly heritage gifted me with near-perfect aim.
“Stop,” Danielle said, her voice so icy that I instinctively did as she said.
The zipper was half open, the tip of the Golden Sword glinting inside. My bow lay beneath it. But I pulled my gaze away from it and looked at Danielle, waiting for her to continue.
“You need your bow and arrow,” she said. Then she whipped her head up and stared at Ethan, her gaze unwavering. “Nicole hates when any of us say it, but I don’t care, because it needs to be said. The four of us—me, Kate, Chris, and Blake—have a huge offensive advantage in a fight because of our powers. Nicole’s power to heal is extremely useful—most of us wouldn’t be alive today if it wasn’t for her—but in order for her to kill, she needs to be close enough to a creature to touch them. She needs to be able to protect herself from far away. The bow is her natural weapon, which is why she’s bringing it into that gallery today. Plus, even though only the Golden Sword will work on Medusa, it would be stupid to go into a fight without at least one long-range weapon. Nicole’s aim makes her the best person to use it.”
With that, Danielle reached for the bag and zipped it back up. She looked at Ethan, challenging him to go against her, but he sat back in his seat, saying nothing.
“Thanks,” I told her, shocked that all of that had come from Danielle.
“There’s nothing to thank me for,” she said, shrugging it off. “You having that bow with you will help keep us all alive.”
“Of course,” I said, unsurprised that Danielle didn’t want to take credit for doing something kind for me. But that didn’t change the fact that she’d done it. We might not have gotten along well at first, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that after the past two months, the two of us had somehow become friends.
We all sat there in silence for a few minutes, lost in our thoughts. I was going over everything we’d been practicing while we trained to fight Medusa. I assumed the others were doing the same. Except for Kate—who knew what went on in her mind? She was probably contemplating the history of Medusa and how to best apply that to battle, or something like that. And Chris… well, from the way he was looking at Kate, and the way his hand was so close to hers, I suspected that he was wondering if he should go for it and try to hold her hand.
He must have decided against it, because he pulled his hand back and placed it in his lap. “You all are so serious.” He chuckled, breaking the silence. Then he leaned forward and looked at each of us, more serious than I’ve ever seen him before. “And I know why,” he continued. “What we’re about to do is scary. Terrifying, even. But we’ve been through things that were just as challenging. We slayed our first monster together in that cave, we escaped the Land of the Lotus Eaters when everyone there was trying to kill us, we blew up one of Scylla’s heads, we slayed the hydra, and we stole the Golden Sword of Athena from a goddess’s ice palace. No matter what challenges we face, we’ve always come out on top. Tonight won’t be any different. We’re the Elementals. We train together, we fight together, and we win together. And don’t any of you ever forget it.”
His words sent a surge of adrenaline through my veins, and I sat straighter, ready to fight.
“We’re going to go in there and fight with everything we have,” Blake added. “And when we leave, it’ll be with Medusa’s head in that bag.”
CHA
PTER THIRTY-FOUR
“What’s in the bag?” the security guard asked, eyeing up the duffel that Raul held to his side.
I stopped in my tracks. Didn’t Jason say he had this handled? If the guard looked in that bag and saw the weapons inside… our VIP tickets could be lined with diamonds, and we would probably still be escorted out of the building.
Jason stepped up to the guard and looked straight in his eyes. “The bag has already been pre-approved by your boss,” he said, his voice calm. The guard’s eyes dilated—a clear sign that he was being compelled by gray energy. “It’s full of sensitive emergency medical equipment for my girlfriend’s condition, and it does not need to be searched. You will let us through, and my bodyguard will stand to the side and watch the bag all night.”
The security guard nodded, his face slack. “My boss has already pre-approved the contents in your bag,” he repeated, stepping aside. “I don’t need to search it, and your group is free to proceed inside.”
With that, the group of us—plus our bag of weapons—strolled past security.
“Your girlfriend?” Hypatia hissed once we were out of hearing distance of the security guard. “Really?”
Jason raised an eyebrow—one of his signature looks that I’d seen many times in his movies. “I expected you to be angry about your ‘mysterious medical condition,’” he said with a chuckle. “Instead, you’re annoyed that I called you my girlfriend.”
“Because I’m not your girlfriend.” She didn’t look at him as we continued down the hall. “We’re on a serious mission, and here you are, trying to dredge up our past.”
“What cover story would you have preferred?” he asked. “Would you have liked for me to call you my sister? Or my mother?”
“Ugh.” Hypatia dropped her arms to her side and clenched her fists. “You are so infuriating!”
This continued for a bit longer, but luckily, they stopped their bickering before we entered the gallery. The industrial-themed room was packed—Jason apparently liked arriving fashionably late. Everyone looked gorgeous and polished—the men in tuxes and the women in floor-length gowns. A few people looked at us when we entered, and then turned to the others in their groups, whispering as they continued to glance our way. Since I doubted they were interested in me and my friends, I assumed they recognized Jason. He was probably the most famous person here.
I scanned the exhibit hall, searching for Medusa. I’d seen enough pictures of her online to know to look for someone with a bright colored head wrap and sunglasses, even while inside. But as I looked around the room—which was decorated to resemble a garden, with various trees and plants surrounding each statue—I didn’t see her anywhere.
“Where’s Medusa?” I asked. Thanks to my mom’s own art, I knew enough about the opening of an exhibit to know that the artist was always there, mingling with the guests. Of course, my mom’s shows weren’t nearly as high profile as this one, so perhaps those rules didn’t apply to an event like this.
“Medusa doesn’t appear in public,” Jason told us. “She’s done video interviews, but she’s never appeared at an event. That’s why the golden tickets were so difficult to get—the only appearances she agrees to do are private meet and greets.”
“I guess that makes sense, since she doesn’t want anyone finding out that she’s a monster,” Danielle said under her breath.
I chuckled, since she had a good point.
“What are we supposed to do now?” Chris asked. “Just hang around, in case she makes a surprise appearance and turns some of her guests to stone?”
“I doubt that will happen.” Hypatia laughed. “Medusa is much wiser when selecting her victims. But don’t take my word for it. You’re here, so you should look around yourselves.”
“What do you think?” Blake asked me. “Do you want to check out the… artwork?” He paused on the last word, probably thinking the same thing that I was.
The statues on display here weren’t artwork. They were corpses.
“Okay,” I said, shivering at the thought. “Let’s have a look.”
“Are you sure?” he asked me. “If it’s too much, we could go to the hors d'oeuvres buffet instead. I think I saw some people with caviar.”
“Fish eggs?” I scrunched my nose. “Yuck. I would rather see the statues.”
“Statues first,” he agreed. “Caviar later. If you haven’t tried it before, you don’t know what you’re missing.”
“Hopefully they have regular food, too,” I said. “Like Doritos. Or Goldfish.” My stomach rumbled at the thought of the cheesy goodness—I’d been so nervous all day that I’d barely been able to eat. Blake glanced down at my stomach, and I wrapped my arms around it, embarrassed that he’d apparently heard it growl, too.
“What’ve you eaten so far today?” he asked, concern crossing his features.
“Toast with butter and jelly,” I said, thinking back to breakfast. “And a power bar.”
“Hors d’oevres first,” he decided, guiding me toward the buffet. “Statues afterward.”
I followed his lead, since I might even be willing to try caviar if it meant putting off seeing Medusa’s horrible creations.
* * *
One bite of the caviar was enough for me, but I did enjoy the gourmet cheese selection, shrimp cocktail, quail eggs, and truffle mini-hamburgers. Blake went to grab us drinks as I continued stuffing my face. Some of the elegant ladies attending the event looked at me a few times as if I were a pig, but I didn’t care—I was hungry.
“Cider infused with blue energy,” Blake said, returning with a flute full of sparkling liquid. “I know you’re anxious about seeing the statues, so I thought this would help you relax.”
“Thanks.” I accepted the drink and took a sip, grateful that he’d thought to do that for me. It was a small gesture, but meaningful just the same. “It seems silly, doesn’t it—to avoid looking at the statues. No one else here seems to have a problem with them.”
“That’s because no one else here knows how those statues came to be,” he said, his voice low. “But if you don’t want to see them, we don’t have to. We can stay here by the food all night.”
“No.” I tossed the remains of a mini-hamburger—I wasn’t sure if it was my third or fourth one—in the trash. “I might not want to see the statues—but it’s something we need to do. Because we should know exactly what kind of monster we’re up against.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Blake reached for my hand, and together we walked around the gallery, looking at the statues. They were all similar—people and animals who lived on the streets, with no family who would come looking for them. The horror of their final moment showed on their faces, and my blood ran cold when I looked at each one. How could everyone else here not be appalled? I guessed it was because they didn’t know that all of these statues had once been alive—that they were looking at corpses.
I gripped Blake’s hand and sipped my drink infused with blue energy, but the calming energy didn’t make this any less horrifying.
Finally, we reached a statue that wasn’t surrounded by other attendees, and we stopped to take it in. The statue was of an old man—his beard scraggly, his eyes looking up at something in terror, his face twisted in anguish. He was so thin that the outlines of his bones showed through what would have been his skin.
He’d been a person once. Now, he was a corpse that had been killed in a gruesome way, on display at a museum for people to admire, as if his life had meant nothing. Because as far as they were aware—he’d never had a life at all. Who was this man? Had he been someone’s husband, someone’s son, someone’s father? Were there people out there missing him, holding onto hope that he might eventually return home?
I glanced at the plaque on the wall behind him: The Fear of the Vagrant. The smaller print explained that Medusa had sculpted this man to bring to light the struggles of homeless people around the world. The anguish in his expression was meant to show how the homeless live eve
ry day with the fear of not knowing if they’ll get food or a place to rest, and how a life filled with such uncertainty eats away at the soul. The final sentence on the plaque informed the viewer that half of the money earned from the sale of this statue would be donated to a local soup kitchen.
“She’s trying to sound like she’s spreading awareness about the life of people on the streets, and like she’s using her ‘art’ to help make a difference,” I said, unable to bring my eyes away from the horrible creation in front of me. There was so much pain the man’s eyes. His final moment, when he was transforming into stone, must have been excruciating. “But all she’s doing is torturing them—killing them—and putting them on display as if they were never people at all.” I inched my arm forward, reaching for his hand. “I wonder if I could—”
“No touching the artwork,” a stern voice said from behind me. The source of the voice—a security guard—stepped forward to stand beside the statue. “Anyone who touches the artwork will be escorted off the premises.”
“Sorry.” I pulled my hand away and held it behind my dress. The guard stood there for a few seconds watching us, as if he was waiting for me to try touching the statue again. He must have figured that his point got through, because he nodded and returned to his business of walking around the gallery.
“You wonder if you could what?” Blake asked, keeping his voice low. “Heal them?”
“Yes,” I said. “Maybe they’re not dead. Maybe they’re just… frozen like that.” I stared into the man’s eyes, trapped in the horror of his expression. Was he still in there, locked inside a concrete prison? Could he see us in front of him, and hear us speak? I hoped—for his sake—that he couldn’t. An eternity like that would be a fate worse than death. “If I can heal them, I have to try.”
“Agreed,” Blake said. “But not now. We can’t get kicked out of here before we’ve had our chance with Medusa. I’m sure that Jason and Hypatia could compel security to let us back in, but causing trouble might alert Medusa that something’s up.”
Elementals 3: The Head of Medusa Page 13
