The Medusa Files, Case 1: Written in Stone

by C. I. Black

  Rika tapped her foot. “Beyond the car driving through the front doors.”

  “A car drove through the front doors? I thought—?” But Morgan wasn’t sure what she thought. She was a monster. No, damn it. That wasn’t true.

  “I had to say something to explain the destroyed lobby,” Gage said.

  “And the ogre didn’t get anywhere near the fifth floor,” Rika said.

  “The fifth floor?” That was her floor.

  Rika pocketed her phone. “Apartment 522.”

  Gage reached for Morgan but hesitated and didn’t grab her arm. Even Lachlin straightened.

  “That’s—” She didn’t know if she wanted to scream or sob.

  “Your place,” Clayton said.

  “What have you gotten me involved in?” It was bad enough she didn’t even know if she’d been attacked or not, but now her apartment, her private space, had been violated.

  “That’s complicated,” Gage said.

  “More complicated than Kin and changelings and fairies?”

  Lachlin snickered and Rika glared at him.

  “That’s it. I have to go.” She couldn’t stand there any longer. She had to get back to her apartment.

  Gage grabbed her arm. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “She’s a snake charmer. She’s hardly helpless,” Lachlin said.

  Gage turned on him, his grip iron around her arm. “It’s too dangerous. Not until we know what’s going on.”

  And boy, would she love to know what was going on, but not until she’d seen the damage to her place. Those rooms, the locked front door, were the only things that were real to her. She was not going to lose that, too—that and it made an excellent excuse to get the hell out of there.

  She seized Gage’s hand, wrenched her arm around—breaking free of his grasp—and yanked his hand around to his back, holding him close. His scent slid around her, captivating her senses, and she ground her teeth against its charm.

  “Planning to keep a U.S. Marshal captive isn’t viewed well by the rest of law enforcement.”

  Gage chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through his back into her chest. “I thought you weren’t a marshal anymore.”

  “I’m leaving.”

  “Told you. Changelings just can’t take it.” Lachlin leaned back and switched channels again.

  “Not helping,” Gage said, but nothing about him indicated he was worried about her.

  Lachlin shrugged. “You said you wanted her on the team, but in a few minutes it’ll really sink in and Clayton will have to mop her brains off the floor.”

  “I’m fine and I’m leaving.” They could easily stop her. Four to one odds were terrible even if she had her gun.

  Gage drew in a breath, his chest expanding, pressing his warm back against her. “Why don’t I explain more after we assess the damage to your apartment.”

  “Excuse me?” Her mind stuttered over that. It didn’t make sense for him to just give up, unless of course he really did want her cooperation. He’d said he’d wanted her to join some team. Holding her prisoner wasn’t really a good start to any partnership.

  “Can you please let me go?” But she wasn’t sure from his tone if he wanted her to let him go or not. Or were those her feelings? Ah, shit.

  “Fine.” But there still wasn’t any way to tell what was real and what wasn’t. She didn’t know what was worse, losing her mind or knowing it was happening. And none of that mattered until she found out what had happened to her apartment.

  CHAPTER 3

  She drove with Gage and Lachlin to her apartment building while Rika and Clayton stayed at the house, which indeed had been a small estate in Old Town.

  No one said a word during the five-minute drive.

  Gage parked his black Mustang between two police cars. Their flashing lights painted the ruined front of Morgan’s apartment building in red and blue strobes and sparkled in the puddles. It did look as if a car had crashed through the double doors into the staircase, and sure enough, a tow truck was loading a mangled midsized car onto its flatbed. But she couldn’t shake the memory of the man-monster… the ogre—according to Gage—attacking her.

  She still didn’t know how she felt about what they’d told her regarding changelings and fairies, or rather the Kin—whatever they were.

  “What happened with the body?” she asked.

  Gage glanced at her through the rearview mirror, his expression clear he didn’t want to answer her. “We have a specialist who adjusted his injuries to match the accident.”

  “And by specialist, you mean…?” She wasn’t sure she wanted the answer and she didn’t know if she believed him.

  “Let’s see if this will be what breaks the changeling’s mind.” Lachlin chuckled and got out of the car.

  Gage glared at him. “Think of this specialist like a cross between an undertaker and a pathologist.”

  “Sure.” Whatever that meant. It all seemed impossible. Hell, everything she knew about the world said it was impossible.

  Except the tiny part of her that said she was dangerous believed Gage. But without hard proof—which she wasn’t even sure she’d believe given she doubted her sanity—she had to err on the side of reality. Yes. She had to be practical.

  But that voice inside her was getting harder and harder to deny.

  She got out with Gage and they joined Lachlin at the building’s front door. A work crew was already fixing the mess of her lobby, clearing away rubble and twisted steel, while a police officer stood on the curb watching it all.

  Morgan followed Gage and Lachlin to the elevator at the end of the hall—since the stairs were roped off—and Lachlin pressed the call button. He hadn’t given her a second look since leaving the house. The air around him was practically frigid. And yet there was something that drew her to him. Perhaps the hint of lithe grace, or his chiseled features. It couldn’t be his arrogance, which was impossible to ignore, even beyond the model-hot looks. Sure, some girls liked bad boys, but Morgan had spent more than enough time arresting them to know they were just trouble.

  Gage shifted beside her. He was a completely different story from Lachlin. Rugged, masculine, tough. He exuded confidence and a hint of violence like a well-honed soldier. She’d bet he’d spent time in the army, probably special forces or the marines. And his scent. God, just standing beside him was driving her crazy… all right, more crazy.

  The elevator doors opened and her heart skipped a beat at the thought of being in close quarters with either of the men.

  She shoved the thought aside and entered. Gage and Lachlin followed, drawing a shiver she fought to hide. Her thoughts were just because of the shock of everything that had happened—and the months of being locked in her apartment… the apartment that had been ransacked.

  The bell dinged and the doors opened. Halfway down the hall, her apartment door stood open. A well-muscled male uniformed officer stood in the entrance flirting with a female forensic tech, while a man in a grey suit—his back to her—talked with her neighbor.

  Her throat tightened at the invasion of her sanctuary.

  She sucked in a steadying breath, surprised at how intense the feeling was. This was their job. She’d done it herself and it didn’t mean anything. But that apartment had been her safe house. She just hadn’t realized how dependent she’d become on it.

  “Hey.” Her neighbor waved at her and the man before him turned around.

  “Oh, great,” Lachlin mumbled. “Wright.”

  The man, a middle-aged guy with salt-and-pepper hair cut short around a bald spot, tapped a pen to his notepad and headed her way. He looked familiar, she must have seen him the last time she’d visited the local police department, but she hadn’t had any dealings with him.

  Gage reached into his leather jacket and pulled out his identification. “Special Agent Alexander Gage.”

  So he was FBI. Did that make him more or less trustworthy?

  “I remember you, Special Agent. Detective Wr
ight.” The muscle in Wright’s jaw twitched. Guess it wasn’t a positive memory. He turned to her. “Morgan Jacobs?”

  Over Wright’s shoulder, her neighbor’s eyes widened in shock, but she couldn’t tell at what. He didn’t seem to be looking at her but at Lachlin or maybe Gage. Her neighbor’s face morphed into the goat’s then back to human, and she bit the inside of her cheek. Don’t react. Don’t let the detective know she was crazy. “Yes.”

  “And you just so happened to show up with the FBI?”

  Lachlin shrugged. “Job interview.”

  Wright tapped his pen on his pad. “At seven in the morning?”

  “Is Marshal Jacobs a suspect in the break-in of her own apartment?” Gage asked.

  Wright held Gage’s dark stare.

  Gage raised an eyebrow and Lachlin rolled his eyes. Wonderful, it looked like this was going to turn into a pissing contest.

  She stepped ahead of Gage, drawing Wright’s attention. She adjusted her gaze to the empty air just beside his head and prayed the sunglasses hid the fact she wasn’t making eye contact. “Let’s just fast-track to the part where you let me evaluate the damages.”

  “Not sure you really want to,” Wright said, but he stepped aside anyway, giving her a clear view through the door.

  Her stomach lurched. It was destroyed. Her apartment had been violated beyond recognition. Her furniture was torn apart, tables and chairs smashed, everything hanging on the walls had been ripped down save for one painting which hung at a precarious angle, and stuffing from her couch and comfy chair littered the debris like fake Christmas snow gone wild.

  “Anything missing?” Wright asked. At least he sounded contrite at such a ridiculous question.

  Nothing and everything could be missing. She had no idea how she was going to be able to tell. Her television had been knocked over but hadn’t been taken. The hutch with her grandmother’s china and silver had been toppled to the floor as well, but if they’d taken anything, she couldn’t tell since silver and pieces of china littered the floor around it.

  “Do you see anything?” Gage asked.

  “Well, they weren’t after valuables.” She picked her way through the mess to her desk. Her laptop hung behind it, caught on its power cord and the cord for her printer—which lay on its side a few feet away.

  “Not your usual burglary,” Wright said.

  “No. Might have something to do with work.” Maybe someone she’d apprehended had found out where she lived and wanted payback. But finding that out meant she’d have to talk to Kate, and that would make their initial conversation since the attack even more awkward. ‘I’m not calling because I miss you, but because of work.’ Oh yeah, she was a great friend.

  “I’ll follow up with the work lead. You’re a U.S. Marshal?”

  She nodded.

  “Even if it is work, unless they left prints or we get lucky with something else, the odds aren’t good we’ll catch anyone. Particularly if they’re not trying to pawn anything you can identify.”

  “Thank you, Detective. I’ll have Jacobs contact you if she thinks of anything.” Gage ushered Wright to the door, shook the man’s hand, and watched him go. Her neighbor continued to peer in from the far side of the hall. Gage shot him a hard look and her neighbor scurried off.

  In that moment, there was something dark and powerful about Gage. Morgan still had no idea if she could trust him, and for a heartbeat she didn’t care. For that heartbeat, she wanted the intensity of that stare on her and the power it promised wrapped around her and within her. Without a doubt, that intensity translated to the bedroom. She knew it the same way she knew she was dangerous. And she wanted him. Craved him.

  Holy shit. She really had lost her mind.

  Gage closed the door and turned to face her. Warmth swept over her cheeks. This was so embarrassing.

  Lachlin blew out a sigh. “All right, fine. You were right.”

  Ice consumed the warmth. “Right about what, specifically?”

  “But that doesn’t mean she can completely accept the reality about Kin.” Lachlin picked at a piece of fluff from the broken back of her couch. “I’m pretty sure she still doesn’t understand what you told her at the house. She certainly didn’t believe you.”

  “Right about what?” She wanted to stare at Gage, give him the same hard look he’d given her neighbor, but everything within her said that was a bad idea—particularly if she wanted him flesh and blood and in her bed. She crossed her arms instead.

  “Remember I said that matter I wanted to discuss with you was time sensitive.”

  “You would have been better off being more direct and saying someone wanted to trash my apartment.”

  “More like someone wants you dead.”

  “Yep, that would have gotten my attention better than asking about a case and saying it was a time-sensitive matter,” she said.

  Lachlin snorted. “You actually said it was time sensitive?”

  Gage picked his way into the room toward her. “I didn’t want to frighten you.”

  Good God! Men. “You know I apprehend criminals for a living.” She wasn’t some damsel in distress. She wasn’t even that feminine, never had been, and what with all the working out she’d been doing in the last four months, she had even less girlish curves than before.

  “And an ogre tried to rip her head off,” Lachlin said. “I’m sure she suspected something was up.”

  “Yeah.” She wasn’t going to add that she still wasn’t sure she believed that… no matter how right it felt. As soon as she was alone in a hotel room, she was calling Izzy and finding out just who Alexander Gage, FBI, really was.

  She reached over her desk to grab her laptop. Something silver and shiny caught her eye, poking out from beneath a pile of scattered papers and pens on her desk. It looked like a cell phone, except hers was black.

  “What is it?” Gage asked.

  He must have seen her hesitate. Even Lachlin leaned forward, his air of indifference gone. He noticed her attention and leaned back, the indifference returning.

  Interesting, there was more to Lachlin than met the eye. Of course, there was more to Gage and everyone else she’d met in that house, she was certain of that.

  She grabbed a pencil and pushed the papers aside, revealing a silver phone. The touch screen lit up, and a red message alert flashed, indicating one message. “I think, according to our local detective, we might just have gotten lucky.”

  She pressed the pencil’s eraser end to the message alert. The phone chimed, the screen went black, then brightened into a photo. Center on the screen was her friend Kate, gagged and bound to a chair.

  Morgan’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh God.”

  Blood crusted Kate’s right temple and her right eye was swollen shut. Her expression was hard and angry. If she got free, hell would have no fury compared to what she’d do to her captors. At the bottom of the picture were two words: We’ll call.

  CHAPTER 4

  Morgan stared at the picture of her friend bound and bleeding. She couldn’t stop looking at it.

  Gage swore under his breath. “We can handle this.”

  “You’re not handling anything. A marshal has been abducted. This is a matter for the marshals and the police.” If, in fact, Kate had been abducted. Morgan was jumping to conclusions. A panicked reaction at seeing the photo, at the whole damned morning. She needed to do what she’d been trained to do, and that meant keeping her cool.

  “Except the message was obviously left for you. That makes it our business,” Gage said.

  But she knew he didn’t mean FBI business. “You mean because I’m Kin.”

  “Why do you think they didn’t ask for a ransom?”

  “I’m sure they’ll get around to it.”

  “Why would they even ask you for one? If you had a fortune, you wouldn’t be living here.” Gage gestured to her ruined living room.

  And that was what bothered her. Why her? And why Kate? It had to have something to do with
their job as marshals.

  “If the kidnappers do ask for a ransom, it’ll be a lie. They’re after you,” Gage said.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” But even as she said it, the words sounded false.

  “Even I can’t believe your luck is so bad as to be attacked, have your apartment ransacked, and your friend kidnapped all in the same morning,” Lachlin said.

  “I would bet whoever’s responsible is Kin. The marshal’s office isn’t qualified to deal with them. You want your friend back alive, you stand back and let me deal with this.”

  “No.” This was her friend and she sure as hell didn’t trust Gage, no matter how good he smelled.

  Gage raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure you have much of a say in the matter.”

  “I’m not some helpless damsel in distress.”

  “Six hours ago you had no idea Kin even existed. You’re not ready for this,” he said.

  “Try and stop me.”

  Lachlin snickered. “Go on, Gage. Stop the snake charmer.”

  Morgan glared at him. “Stop saying that.” Heat raced across her eyes and grey swept over the picture precariously hanging behind him. It cracked and fell, shattering on the floor.

  Lachlin jerked away. “I told you she was dangerous.”

  The heat swelled, racing over her face. The edge of her toppled chair in front of Lachlin hardened.

  “Morgan,” Gage said, panic edging his voice.

  “Stop looking at me!” Lachlin’s face morphed back and forth between normal and Kin. “Stop looking.”

  “Close your eyes,” Gage said.

  Her eyes were on fire. A grey haze filled her vision.

  “For God’s sake, close your eyes.”

  The chair crumbled. Lachlin drew his sidearm. Gage grabbed for it, but Lachlin twisted out of the way. The wall behind them cracked. Oh, God.

  “Close your eyes,” Gage yelled.

  She wrenched her gaze to the floor. The inferno raged over her cheeks and forehead. Stop, please. Just stop. She squeezed her eyes shut. Pressure pounded against her lids. She pressed her palms to her eyes. She was going to explode. It was too much. She was burning alive. She couldn’t control it. She really was crazy.