The Medusa Files, Case 1: Written in Stone

by C. I. Black

  And none of that explained how she’d gotten here or what was going on.

  Someone knocked and she eased around to face whoever it was. The door opened with a squeak and light flooded in from a hallway beyond, accentuating Gage’s well-muscled form.

  She yanked her attention to the floor before her eyes could start burning.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “Like I’ve been hit by a bus.”

  “An ogre, actually.”

  “Excuse me?” She couldn’t have heard that right.

  “Ogre.”

  Wonderful, now she was suffering auditory hallucinations as well.

  Gage shifted, his army boots inching a step into the room. “We really do need to talk, Marshal Jacobs.”

  “Yes, your urgent matter.” She drew in a steadying breath, catching a hint of his scent. Even from across the room he was intoxicating. “I think you’ve just taken care of that, and I’m not a marshal anymore.”

  “I said time sensitive, not urgent,” he said.

  Her gaze darted to him, all sexy muscles and confidence. She dragged it back to the floor. “Fine, time sensitive?”

  He shifted again, his feet inching back into the hall. “There are painkillers in the bathroom. Clean up and meet me in the rec room.”

  “The rec room?”

  “To your right. End of the hall.” His feet turned to go, but he didn’t walk away. “There’s also a pair of sunglasses on the dresser. They might make you feel more comfortable.”

  And what was that supposed to mean? But before she could ask, he’d shut the door, leaving his intoxicating scent hanging in the room.

  She glanced at the dresser. A pair of sunglasses and her mail sat on top. She turned to the only other door in the room. Inside lay a walk-through closet and beyond, the aforementioned bathroom.

  Her reflection stared back at her. Even from this distance, at the far end of the closet and in the grey daylight, she looked like the victim of a car crash. Blood streaked across one cheek and stained her sweatshirt and yoga pants around tears in the fabric. She doubted she’d look any better with the light on.

  Maybe she could just hide in this room, go back to sleep, and pretend nothing had happened. She was tired enough, sleep might even be possible, but the exhaustion bled into anger. She might have spent the last four months hiding from the world, but not because she was weak and gave up. She wouldn’t be weak now.

  Except everything had gotten worse. She was seeing things and hearing things. At the very least, she’d been part of… of whatever had happened last night and should be talking with the police. If she was honest with herself, she should go to the closest hospital and get help.

  The memory of the man-monster flashed into her mind. With a jolt, the image jumped to the red mist.

  And if she was really honest with herself, she’d pull it together and figure out what the hell was going on. Gage had said he wasn’t a marshal, but he’d seen her file.

  The key words being ‘he’d said’. She had no proof he’d seen it, other than he knew what she looked like and where she lived, and that information could be found through any manner of ways.

  She didn’t know anything about him, didn’t know where she was or what he wanted. She could be in bigger trouble than just fearing to look people in the eye. She had no way of telling what was real and what wasn’t. For all she knew, Gage, as she was seeing him, wasn’t real either. Which was a shame because he was nice to look at.

  She shivered at the thought. That could all just be an extension of her fantasy. How the hell was she going to figure this out? She couldn’t even trust herself. How could she trust anyone else?

  She’d thought she could get through this herself, but the more she thought about it, the more complicated it became. She’d never know for certain if she wasn’t sick. Except she didn’t feel sick.

  A small part of her whispered this fear, these visions were reality and everything else, what she’d believed was true, was the fantasy. Which didn’t make any sense. Monsters didn’t exist. And she wasn’t one of them.

  Which meant she needed to get out of here and get medical help. To do that, she needed to face Gage.

  With a flick, she turned on the light and walked through the empty closet into the bathroom, keeping her gaze away from her eyes in the mirror. She’d look everywhere but there. It had been like that since coming home from the hospital. When she did look herself in the eye, what stared back wasn’t her. It was alien and strange and gave her the creeps. More evidence there was something wrong with her.

  She scrubbed the blood from her face and ran wet hands through her wild curls—doing nothing to tame them. She didn’t feel refreshed or better or anything. Just angry and tired and wary.

  She grabbed the sunglasses from the dresser and put them on, not wanting to think about how Gage knew they’d make her feel more comfortable. Not that she was going to be looking anyone in the eye anytime soon, but she had to admit, they did feel as if they offered a sense of protection.

  It was ridiculous to think pieces of tinted plastic were a defense against anything, but her fear wasn’t logical, which meant the solution didn’t have to be logical either.

  She cracked the bedroom door open and glanced out. Cream walls and a grey carpet—too thick to be institutional—lined the hall. She was at the far end of it, with a small curtained window to her left. To her right were half a dozen doors on either side of the hall. At the end it looked like two more halls branched off, and straight ahead was an archway opening into a large room, probably the rec room where Gage wanted to meet.

  She squared her shoulders, drew in a breath that didn’t steady her, and headed down the hall.

  “What were you thinking?” a silky masculine voice in the room at the end of the hall asked. “You shouldn’t have brought her here.”

  She froze. Whoever it was, he didn’t sound happy.

  “And where else was she supposed to go, Lachlin?” That was Gage, his voice softer but edged with steel.

  “Any place but here.”

  She glanced back at the window at the end of the hall. If she exhaled, she might be able to squeeze through. Or better yet, go back to her room and go out that window, except she had no way of knowing if she could get that window open or not.

  “You know she won’t have a hope of transitioning anywhere else.”

  Transitioning into what? Crazy? Already there.

  “She’s not going to be able to transition, period.”

  “Maybe so. But here is still the only place for her.”

  Ah, hell no. Whatever was going on, there wasn’t an only anything, and they weren’t going to force her.

  She inched closer. Maybe if she could get to the intersecting hall she’d be able to escape without anyone noticing.

  “We’re short a member. In time—”

  Silky Voice, Lachlin, snorted. “Time can’t help her.”

  Only a few more feet to the intersection, but now she could see into the room. It was indeed a rec room with two sofas and three comfy chairs huddled around a big screen TV, a pool table beside them, and a full wall lined with books and board games.

  Gage stood with his back to her in front of the pool table, his arms crossed. On the other side by the sofas stood a tall man—taller than Gage—but narrower all over. He was lithe grace if Gage was solid muscle. Black hair hung loose around his shoulders… or was that down his back? She couldn’t tell, and the moment she thought she could, it seemed to change. His narrow face was breathtakingly beautiful. It tugged at something within her, drawing her to him, yearning to bask in such perfection.

  She ground her teeth against the desire and pressed against the wall, praying he wouldn’t notice her.

  “Regardless,” Gage said, “we still need to bring her up to speed.”

  “There’s no bringing her up to anything. She’s a changeling and a half-breed at that. You can’t fix that.” Lachlin dropped onto the sofa, making s
omething so simple look smooth and sexy and inviting. “We all want Chava back, but this girl isn’t the answer.”

  A huge shadow emerged from the hall to her right and stepped into the entranceway to the rec room. The man was enormous, as tall as Lachlin but at least three times the width. He was muscles upon muscles like the man-monster who’d attacked her last night. Except instead of grey skin covered in coarse hair, he was smooth, rich ebony.

  “I don’t want to replace Chava either,” the large man said, his voice a deep rumble.

  “See, even Clayton is smart enough to know this is a bad idea.” Lachlin grabbed the remote and turned on the TV.

  Gage flicked a finger and the TV snapped off. “She’s got skills for the job.”

  She did not just see that. Did she?

  “I hate when you do that.” Lachlin turned the TV back on. “But if she can’t see through glamour, she’s useless. The odds of a changeling breaking the psychological compulsion not to see us are impossible.”

  “Those aren’t odds,” Clayton said.

  Lachlin glared at him. “And even if she can, she’s a half-breed. She’ll go mad first.”

  She already was mad. Their words whirled through her. They didn’t make any sense and yet a small part of her felt maybe if she concentrated hard enough, she’d figure it out.

  “The boys really do natter,” said a soft, feminine voice beside Morgan.

  She jumped and bit back a yelp. There, at her elbow, stood a tiny woman of East Indian descent with bright purple hair, the short locks spiked in all directions.

  Her features were delicate, a match to her less than five-foot-high petite frame. Her chin, nose, and ears extended into points, wavered, then blunted back to normal human features, then extended again. For a heartbeat her eyes were purple, like her hair, then back to dark brown.

  “I’m Rika. It’s good to have another girl in the house again.”

  The large black man turned, his eyes wide, his mouth in a silent ‘oh’.

  “Don’t just stand in the hall, Clayton,” Lachlin said. “Bring the girl here.”

  Morgan rolled her eyes. As if he was so much older than her. In fact, he looked younger, mid-twenties to her early thirties. “I’m hardly a girl.”

  “Trust me, Kitten, to me you’re practically a babe in arms.” His ears morphed like Rika’s into long, delicate points then jumped back to normal. He turned to Gage. “You see why she can’t be here.”

  “You’re only worried she’s Kin enough to see through your charm.” Rika ushered Clayton into the room, making space for Morgan.

  Lachlin rolled his eyes. “She’s half-human. That isn’t Kin at all.”

  “It’s Kin enough for your sister,” Clayton said.

  Lachlin shot upright. “We are not talking about my sister.”

  “No, we’re not. We’re talking about Chava’s daughter, half-human and changeling or not.” Gage turned to Morgan and extended his hand.

  She stared at it. She didn’t want to take it. She had no idea what they were talking about, but without a doubt they were crazier than she was. At least she knew she’d lost it. Unless, of course, she wasn’t hearing the conversation right. “I think I’m with Lachlin. I don’t belong here.”

  “That’s because you don’t understand.” Gage inched his hand closer.

  Her gaze leapt to his bottomless brown eyes. Through the sunglasses, they seemed darker and deeper than before. She could drown in those eyes and be happy.

  And she could kill him with a look.

  She jerked her attention back to the floor.

  “Ah, shit.” Lachlin slammed the remote on the coffee table. “She knows.”

  “Argue with that.” Rika grabbed Morgan’s hand and squeezed.

  “She’s going to kill us before our job does,” Lachlin said.

  Morgan pulled her hand free from Rika’s. “Knows about what? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “It’s what we need to discuss. Why don’t we find someplace more private,” Gage said.

  She didn’t want to be alone in a room with him… okay, well, maybe she did, but at least she was smart enough to know right now that was a bad idea. “How about the hall.”

  Gage’s eyes narrowed, but he stepped into the hall and slightly around the corner.

  Morgan followed, keeping the rec room and the others in sight. “So?”

  She wanted to look at him, stare him straight in the eye, and read him like she used to read suspects and sources when chasing fugitives. But she couldn’t risk it. Not with that voice in her head getting louder and louder, saying she was dangerous.

  Gage shifted and twisted a silver ring on his right index finger. “From the way you averted your eyes, you already know your gaze is dangerous and I suspect you’re now seeing things.”

  “We’ll assume that’s true.” She didn’t want to give him any proof she was crazy or that she bought into his craziness.

  He arched an eyebrow. “You have a terrible poker face.”

  She could just punch him. “Fine. Your friend, Lachlin, mentioned a changeling. That’s a fairy child replacing a human child.”

  “Very good.”

  “Don’t get cocky.” Even if that confidence completely turned her on. “I took first year mythology as an elective in college.”

  “Not sure that will help.” He shifted again, drawing her back to his eyes. “You know within you something is different. You know the world around you is different from what you were told and you think you’re losing your mind.”

  She pulled her gaze to the wall behind his right ear. “Oh, and that’s because I’m a changeling like Lachlin says. That would mean I’m a fairy who grew up in the human world.” She’d known from a young age she was adopted, but a changeling? That was ridiculous.

  Except the part of herself that knew the heat in her eyes wasn’t her imagination told her what Gage said was true. But that just meant she really was crazy.

  “Not quite a fairy but one of the Kin.”

  “Kin?”

  “Yes. Everything likely mentioned in that mythology course you took and more.”

  “This is a joke, right?” Maybe she wasn’t crazy. Maybe Izzy had told Kate that Morgan was moping and they’d plotted something outrageous to brighten her up. It wasn’t likely, but Izzy could have convinced Kate drastic measures were necessary.

  “This isn’t a joke, Kitten,” Lachlin called from the rec room, miming his head exploding.

  Gage glared at him then turned back to Morgan. “When you look at Lachlin, what do you see?”

  One hot, arrogant guy. “What do you mean?”

  “You see two Lachlins, don’t you. You see a human face and a face that’s more than human. He’s Fae. Just like when you looked at the ogre, you saw his human glamour as well as his real appearance. Kin can see other Kin.”

  “So why couldn’t I see any of this before?” Still not going to buy it, but she couldn’t help asking. Besides, she couldn’t be Kin. She wasn’t some kind of mythological monster.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Well, make it uncomplicated or I’m out of here.” And really, she should have gone a long time ago, but she couldn’t make herself leave. It was like watching a car accident. That was it. She was watching herself go crazy and couldn’t bring herself to look away.

  Gage twisted his ring again. “Sometimes half-humans, like you, are left to be raised by humans because the chance of them having enough Kin blood to be Kin is slim. Hence they become changelings. Kin abilities show up around puberty, and when you didn’t manifest your abilities, your mother probably thought you were too human and it was better to leave you alone. Non-Kin can’t see through glamour.”

  “But Kin can.”

  “Yes, and because you’ve recently come into your power, you’re starting to see past the glamour.”

  “And every Kin has this glamour?” Did that mean she had a glamour? Was that what she was seeing through when she looked in the
mirror and a stranger stared back?

  “Yes. Everything magical does. It’s a type of universal magic that keeps magic protected and hidden from humans.” Gage crossed his arms. “Humans can’t usually see through glamour and with the current belief that the Kin don’t exist, it’s almost impossible to get them to see through it. If they do, the glamour will change their memories, so they can’t remember what they’ve seen.”

  “So you’re telling me there are monsters walking around, looking like humans?” And that she was one of them, or rather half of one.

  He raised an eyebrow. “You worked for Fugitive Operations. You don’t have to be Kin to be a monster.”

  He had a point. But her head still whirled. She didn’t want to accept it and she had no proof any of it was real. It was just so hard to remember she couldn’t trust her judgment.

  “And you’re telling me I’m one of those monsters?”

  “Here it comes,” Lachlin said.

  Gage’s expression darkened. “One more word and I swear—”

  Lachlin jerked up and leaned over the back of the sofa, sneering. “You’ll what?”

  The lights in the room flickered and dimmed. Clayton’s eyes widened and Rika hugged herself. The air crackled with pent-up energy and the hair on Morgan’s arms and neck stood up.

  “You can’t do anything,” Lachlin said.

  “Try me,” Gage growled. The lights flared bright and returned to normal.

  Lachlin snorted and slumped back down on the couch.

  To hell with this. She was getting out of this crazy house. She couldn’t believe anything Gage said, and she certainly couldn’t believe she was some kind of monster.

  A bright chime rang and Rika pulled a glittery purple phone from her back pocket. “Yeah?”

  Gage held out his hand to Morgan. Light flashed from the ring on his finger. “I know this is a lot to take in, but it’s important you understand it.”

  “Police report a break-in at 23 Park Street,” Rika said.

  Lachlin changed the channel. “Because our mighty leader was just there.”