Medusa's Heart: A Contemporary Paranormal Erotic Romance Novel

by Joey W. Hill

  “They’re rescues we found at our last performance. You won’t usually see any pregnant dogs or cats here. Yvette insists on getting all of them neutered. She claims it’s the responsible thing to do, and it is.” Clara smirked. “But we think she became particularly zealous about it after one of our pregnant cat rescues made her nest and gave birth in Yvette’s fabulous shoe collection. After she shredded a bunch of them. You may have seen her, the calico with gold and gray tabby spots?”

  Remembering the cat on top of her wagon, Medusa nodded. “I saw her this morning.”

  “She’s a member of the Circus family now. We call her Ibee, which stands for Irony and Bitch, because we named her Irony and Yvette named her Bitch. The Irony part is because she’s Yvette’s favorite cat. Probably because after Yvette discovered her in her shredded shoe nest, the cat stared up at Yvette like, ‘Yeah, what’re you going to do about it?’”

  Clara chuckled. “I got all that from Charlie, since Yvette would never admit to any of it.”

  The image of the intimidating female vampire being fond of a cat who’d destroyed her wardrobe was hard to reconcile. Yet Yvette seemed to have a serious moral code about protecting those who deserved protecting. It was a message Medusa was seeing echoed all around her at the Circus, so perhaps it wasn’t surprising to hear Yvette had a fondness for a brave cat.

  “Are you a performer?” she asked Clara. “You did not seem comfortable about using your gift.”

  “No, and I don’t really use it, not directly. I’m a side show act on the midway. A fortune teller. Mostly I pick up on the clues I see in people and tell them things that make them laugh and feel good. It’s rare that I open myself up to really delve into their heads and see what’s going on. They don’t want that any more than I want to do it.”

  As they moved away from another grouping of wagons and tents, Clara changed the subject, pointing down a grassy slope toward a distant open pavilion tent. “That’s where the centaurs usually are, though I expect they’re out for a run this morning. Unos is their leader. You’ll know when they’re back, because the ground will shake like from an earthquake. Subtle isn’t in their vocabulary, but that comes in handy on performance night. You should see the kids’ eyes get so big and round when they come thundering into the tent.

  “Rand.” Clara nearly squealed the name, startling Medusa. Throwing a devilish twinkling look at her, Clara ran forward to where the enormous black wolf was lying beneath a shade tree. He cracked open his golden eye and heaved an exaggerated sigh as she dropped onto the ground beside him and gave him a hug, her arms not quite able to reach around his massive shoulders. “You give the best hugs. He’s so furry. Come give him a hug, Medusa.”

  “Er…” She made a polite obeisance to the wolf as he eyed her. Since he was panting, she was looking at a formidable set of teeth. “I’ll just say a courteous good morning.”

  “He’s a big silly dog, is all.” Clara laughed as Rand surged up and knocked her to her back. Then he pinned her, dropping into a prone position over her stomach and hips, eliciting an oof. Medusa noted that he’d been very careful in his wrestling, though, and no teeth were involved.

  “Okay, okay, fatso. I give up.”

  Rand yawned hugely and gazed at a hawk flying overhead as if he couldn’t hear her. “You can’t blame me for hugging you. You’re so huggable.” Clara had one arm free and used it to scratch his side, making his back leg start to pedal. “See, I’m good for that.”

  He huffed in her face. “Ugh, wolf breath,” she groaned. “Goddess, the raw meat diet. Why doesn’t Cai brush your teeth?”

  Probably because Cai valued all his fingers, Medusa surmised. But she did note the wolf seemed affable to the girl’s teasing, and the gleam in his eye suggested he enjoyed her play.

  “Okay, can’t breathe. Up, help. Wheezing here. Marcellus will come if he thinks I’m being oxygen deprived. He might wait to pull you off me until I’ve turned the color of a blueberry, but he will come.”

  Rand got up and stretched, then gave her a chin-to-forehead sloppy lick that made her shriek with disgust. He bounded away behind a nearby wagon as Clara got to her feet, wiping her face with the hem of her shirt.

  “Dog germs. Gross.” But she was smiling. She glanced around them. “I’m surprised Cai’s not nearby. Those two aren’t usually far from one another. But sometimes Yvette needs Cai’s help with vampire-related things. We perform in a lot of different vampire territories, which means she has to clear her passage with overlords.”

  Clara made a face. “Vampires are really uptight about territory boundaries. Her adherence to all the rules is part of her tentative truce with the Council. At least that’s my understanding. Vampires can be very clique-y, not wanting to talk to humans about these things.”

  “It’s the top-of-the-food-chain delusion.” A shirtless, broad-shouldered male with a thick tangle of brown hair falling past his shoulder blades emerged from behind the wagon. He wore a ragged pair of jeans and nothing else, his feet bare. The silken pelt of hair on his wide chest was a gleaming dark chestnut color. As Medusa met his gaze, she started. Though his gaze was no longer bi-colored, both orbs a vivid blue with gold flecks, she was absolutely sure she was looking at the blue and gold-eyed wolf.

  Pulling a crimson-colored packet from his pocket, he retrieved and unwrapped a small rectangle of some kind of food from it, popping it in his mouth. “Cinnamon Trident,” he told Medusa, and extended the packet. “Want some?”

  He shot Clara an amused look. “Since the lady did complain about my breath.”

  When he had shifted toward her with the offering, Medusa had stepped back from him out of instinct. She’d been told he was a shifter, but seeing the reality was more disturbing and reminded her of stories from her own time, where wolves with human eyes charged out of the Underworld to drag the helpless to a terrible death.

  “It’s gum,” Clara said, taking two of the rectangles and handing her one. “You chew it, but don’t swallow. It’s for the flavor. It’s not meant to be eaten.”

  Clara’s steady gaze said she probably knew what Medusa was struggling with, but she was also sending her a palpable message to pull it together, as John Pierce might say.

  Rand had dropped his hand and his gaze had shuttered. In another breath he’d likely turn away and leave.

  Yesterday she’d met a blood drinker and felt a similar surge of alarm. Now as then, Medusa reminded herself of what people thought of her, mostly because of stories. She wouldn’t call Rand safe, not exactly, but he wasn’t a threat to her. Clara wouldn’t have been so comfortable with him otherwise, would she?

  He’d started to pivot when she found her voice. “Does it hurt?” She cleared the squeak out of her tone. “Changing forms.”

  Rand stopped and looked over his wide shoulder. Studying her a long moment, he at last turned to face her, easing her tension. She didn’t want to treat someone like she’d been treated. She knew how it felt, after all.

  “Sometimes. Shifting’s easiest during the full moons, hardest during the dark moon, but I’ve been doing it so long now, I don’t even think about it.” He looked at the snakes. “What happens if one of them eats something big, like a rat? How do they get it through their digestive tract?”

  She laughed as he pantomimed the visual of a giant lump being stuck inside the snake but outside her head. “They receive their main food from what I eat. The biggest thing they have ever caught and eaten themselves is a small lizard.” She grimaced. “The sensation was horrifying.”

  He smiled, and she wondered if she’d put him more at ease, too. “Do they ever bite you?” he asked.

  “They have, when they’ve been afraid. They don’t mean to do it, though. It’s just instinct. It’s been a long time since they’ve done that.” She thought of the Times Square portal. If John Pierce hadn’t wrapped himself around her so securely, it would have been more recent.

  “Yeah.” He received the double meaning and his serious lips c
urved. She was forgiven. He extended his hand. “We didn’t meet last night. Officially. Rand.”

  Though he was articulate, he had a slow way of speaking, and the words had a rumbling sound like a continuous low growl. He didn’t seem comfortable speaking out loud, as if the sound startled him. Perhaps it was an initial transition thing, when he first turned from wolf to human. As Medusa took his hand, she noted the strong but gentle grip and scars along his wrist, overlaid by tattoos that looked like brands.

  “What do those mean? If it is all right to ask.”

  “They’re a warning. And a reassurance. The meaning is something between me and my… Between me and Cai.”

  “We’re going to see Lianthe,” Clara said. “Want to go?”

  “Lianthe is not comfortable with me, even as human.” Rand shook his head. “Too much history between horse species and wolves.” Returning to the wagon which was apparently his, he opened a compartment in the back and retrieved a small sack. “Here’s something she’ll like. Don’t say I gave it to you. She might spit it out. Or trample it.”

  “She won’t,” Clara insisted. Rand merely made a dubious noise and waved them on their way. When Medusa glanced over her shoulder a moment later, she saw the wolf under the tree again. Had he shifted merely to introduce himself to her? Even when the people she’d met had been busy with tasks, all had made a special effort to bid her a genuine welcome. Perhaps she could stay here indefinitely, as John had implied.

  He’d seemed as reluctant to leave her island as she had, but maybe he would feel at home here, too. And this was a place with ample protection. He wouldn’t have to stay with her just because he thought she wouldn’t be safe without him. He claimed he felt no sense of obligation, that he desired to be with her, but to feel that the choice was pure and true? It was appealing and terrifying at once to her. She wondered if he felt the same way. Was that part of why he seemed as if he could have been content on her island forever?

  They continued on their way. Medusa had the thrill of seeing the centaurs at a distance, their hooves kicking up a dust cloud behind them as they emerged from the distant forest and galloped by the far side of the lake. A few moments later she looked up in response to a series of piercing cries and saw the small dragons wheeling and dancing. Clara pointed to a nearby stand of trees and Medusa clutched her hand in involuntary reaction as she detected a pair of jeweled eyes, each as big as her fist.

  “Jetana,” Clara whispered. “Tragar, her mate, is likely off hunting. Best to make dragon parent introductions from a distance. They’ll approach you if ever they want to say a direct hello.”

  “Is there a way to tell the difference between that and them coming to eat you?”

  Clara chuckled. “It’s a fine line. They’ve actually never harmed anyone in the Circus, but Gundar handles their performances and he advises us to treat them with a really high protocol kind of respect. Bowing before you address them, backing away when you’ve finished. They’re really old-school about those kinds of things. Kind of like Yvette on steroids.”

  Following Clara’s informative dialogue could be challenging as they hit terms Medusa didn’t know, but thanks to her exposure to John Pierce, she’d become more accomplished at picking up context, so she was often only temporarily confused before she figured it out.

  As they drew closer to the edge of the lake, a pair of women, one red-headed, one blonde, surfaced and waved at Clara. They both had blue-green eyes like the waters around Medusa’s island.

  “Hey Tawny, hey Gia. I’m just showing Medusa around.”

  “Welcome,” they chorused, giving her friendly, curious looks. “You should come for a swim later,” Gia said. “The day is perfect for one.”

  “We may do that. She has the day off until tomorrow. After that, you know Yvette. Leisure time will be a distant memory.”

  Tawny rolled her eyes in good-natured sympathy. “We’ve been practicing our act, but the nice thing about being in the water is she doesn’t necessarily know when we’re taking a break, especially since most vampires don’t like to go into the water.”

  “You know she has her spies.” Clara pointed skyward at the dragons. “They’ll sell any of us out for her treats.”

  “Too true. We better get back to it.” The two women turned and dove. Medusa gasped in delight as she saw their hips were covered with silver and pink lapped scales. The feathered fronds of their tails came out of the water as they propelled themselves back toward the center of the lake.

  “Mermaids,” Clara confirmed. “Isn’t this the coolest place ever? You know, some of the first pictures I saw of you showed you with a snake’s tail, but it was a lot like the size and shape of a mermaid’s. I’ll have to show you. You’ve inspired some awesome tattoo work. Not just John’s, but that was inspired by something different, I think.”

  “You have seen his tattoo?”

  “He had it upgraded here.”

  “I thought he said…he had it done many years ago.”

  “He did, as a teenager, the original basic design. But after he got involved with Maddock, a few months before he came to your island, he met with one of the two amazing tattoo artists we have here and said he wanted to update it.”

  Clara dropped her touch to squeeze Medusa’s hand. Physical affection was so natural for her, and Medusa realized how much she was liking it, another woman, a potential friend, touching her without worry or fear. As Callidora had done, so often and spontaneously.

  She closed her eyes, feeling her friend curled around her in the bed at night, the two of them innocently nestling together like baby rabbits.

  The feeling hurt, as it often did to remember her and the other priestesses, but fortunately Clara distracted her. “I wish you could have been here to see him get it done. It took the tattoo artist a few hours, and the outlining part can be a little brutal, especially for a design that intricate. John Pierce just sat there, so still. It was mesmerizing, as if he was mentally following every movement of the needle gun, tattooing the design inside him at the same time it was being put on the outside.”

  Clara nudged her. “Watching him sit there shirtless and in a pair of jeans wasn’t a hardship, either. I think all the women of the Circus strolled by a couple times. Even Yvette.”

  “Was he…with any of them then?”

  Clara gave her a puzzled look. “Of course not. Why would you…”

  She saw a flicker in the young clairvoyant’s eyes, as if in a heartbeat she’d picked up a variety of things. Though it seemed as if she’d been ready to say something far different, Clara shook her head. “No. He wasn’t with any of them.”

  Medusa shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t want to pursue what the woman had been about to say. She expected it would be something about John Pierce’s devotion to her long before they met. He was always very straightforward about those feelings, and asked her for nothing in return, but for reasons she couldn’t explain, she didn’t want to hear it echoed by others.

  Or perhaps Clara was going to tell her he had been “with” women in that way he’d described. “Subs” and “sessions” and “clubs.” She didn’t really want to hear about that, either.

  They moved through a thick stand of trees. Showing her sensitivity to Medusa’s mood shift, Clara returned to the previous tone of their conversation. She pointed out a small family of gnomes and a cadre of dragonflies that turned out to be pixie fairies.

  “During breaks in the performances, Yvette will send them out to fly among the guests. It’s so fun to see them realize what they are. She had to do some serious negotiating with the Fae world to let them be here, but Chi-la, the pixie who’s kind of in charge of the rest, really wanted to be here, so Queen Rhoswen and King Tabor finally allowed it.”

  When they emerged from the woods, they were at another grassy clearing, a set of hills that layered into one another and were dotted with more trees. As she stood in their shadow, a few feet from Clara, Medusa saw a female horse coming out of another grove
some distance ahead of them. She was stepping delicately toward a small pond that looked like a silver mirror. When Clara raised her hand to get her attention and the creature turned in their direction, Medusa saw the sunlight glint off the spiral silver horn.

  Rand had implied that a unicorn was connected enough to the horse species to have some of their historical fears of wolves. Yet the qualities a unicorn possessed were similar to those which made Rand so clearly not a wolf, even in wolf form. The magic to what they were was probably even further enhanced in this in-between world. She wondered what kind of auras Charlie saw when she looked at a wolf versus Rand, or a horse next to a unicorn.

  There was a glow on the edges of everything here, or a vibration, that said this place wasn’t exactly the “real world.” She’d have to ask John if he felt it, saw it, the way she did, or if she, being be-spelled herself, felt it more strongly.

  The unicorn was prancing toward Clara, snorting, one brown eye lit with a kaleidoscope of colors from the reflection of sunlight. As she turned more in Medusa’s direction, Medusa put her hand to her mouth, shock coursing through her. This was the unicorn from her dream. She was sure of it. She knew those movements, the patterns of light pink pigment around the nostrils...

  Ratqueen rammed her cheek, agitated. Earthson, too, was pressing against her windpipe as if he didn’t want her to move toward the unicorn. Treebark slid straight up her face as if he was going to cover her eyes. She was getting a jumble of impressions from them and the other snakes, a warning, but it didn’t make sense.

  Moving Treebark out of her line of sight, she stepped out of the cover of the trees, absently trying to soothe the snakes while her full attention remained on the unicorn. Her knees were trembling. She was overwhelmed, amazed, and her hand had lifted of its own accord, stretching toward the dream that had helped her so much. First, during those initial lonely days in the temple when she was sure her family had left her there because they didn’t want her. Later, after Ukrit. Even though she didn’t have the dreams anymore then, she could remember and hold onto them as a reminder of when times had been better.