Medusa's Heart: A Contemporary Paranormal Erotic Romance Novel

by Joey W. Hill

  Clara pressed her lips together, wisely choosing not to address John’s venomous comment. “Your snakes sort of got hypnotized too, but I don’t think they were in the memory with you, because they were quiet through all of it. I’m so sorry,” the young woman added, putting her hand over Medusa’s. “So very sorry. I can’t imagine how horrible that was. But they gave their lives to protect you, and I’m sure in whatever afterlife they ended up, they understood that you didn’t know, that you didn’t mean to harm them.”

  “Does that make it better?” Medusa said dully. She realized someone had brought a plate of cookies, and now the young woman nudged them toward her.

  “Eat one or two of these. Walnut chocolate chip. Helps bring the blood sugar back up. Yes, I think so.” Clara’s eyes were serious. “Put yourself in their shoes. If you woke up in the afterlife, wouldn’t it help to know that you’d been turned to stone by accident, not deliberately, by someone you considered a friend?”

  “I think I’d just be angry to find myself dead, and blaming whoever put me there.”

  “That person would be Ukrit, wouldn’t it?” Clara’s expression didn’t change, but her tone firmed, resonating with an unexpected core of steel. “They were trying to help you get away from him. I’m not saying you shouldn’t feel terrible about it, but neither you nor any of them knew what was going to happen, so there was nothing you could have done to prevent it. And now that you’ve remembered, you can grieve their loss properly and find a way to heal your heart.”

  Sometimes it felt like her heart had been torn open so many times it would never heal again. John dipped his head and pressed his lips to her shoulder. He stayed in that position, offering comfort, his temple pressed against her cheek. She closed her eyes.

  “Here come Maddock and Charlie.” Clara squeezed her hand as John tensed beside her.

  The wizard gave John a wary look which John returned with a bland one, though Medusa was sure Maddock saw the same simmering rage in his eyes she did. She laid her hand on John Pierce’s thigh. “He is trying to help,” she said. “Yes, I know it is also for his knowledge, but if it helps me, it is still help. And he is your very good friend who cares about you.”

  John’s gaze slid over her face, his expression caught between anger and care. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to beat his face into oatmeal.”

  But he sighed and relented, putting his arm around Medusa’s waist again. “Sit down and tell us what genius thing you found out,” he said in a cold voice, though the gaze he kept on Medusa’s face was tender and protective, his arm still securely around her.

  “Okay.” Maddock took a seat and looked at Medusa. “I am sorry.”

  Everyone had their own demons and guilt to bear. She saw it in the depths of his eyes, the same way she saw it in John, and in herself. She inclined her head. Her voice was rough from crying, but she meant it when she spoke. “I know. There is nothing to forgive. What did you discover?”

  He seemed surprised at her sincere response, but relieved to turn the topic toward a puzzle to solve. “Most of what I heard confirmed what I suspected. The spell is based primarily on what lies within you. There is some of Ukrit’s black magic in it, but that was designed to lessen over time. Your priestess was one hell of a witch practitioner, especially when you think of how fast she had to put this together.” He recalled himself at a warning noise from John Pierce. “But spells that use the darkest level of someone’s soul often require a significant paradigm shift to get them to let go.”

  “The acts of trust,” she said.

  Maddock nodded. “I’m thinking the turning points that vanished the claws, fang and tongue were feeding off your own desires, strongly enough it broke that part of the spell work. And my guess is it’s going in order of priority. The claws, fangs and tongue were the features you were more willing to let go than the others.”

  She put her hand on Ratqueen, coiled around her throat, the white snake’s head resting on top of her breast. It made sense. Her wings had given her freedom and a lethal attack advantage, her eyes the biggest deterrent to her enemies. And the snakes…they’d been her companions, sharing her soul in a straightforward way. Would an act of trust make them vanish as if they’d never existed? Or worse, kill them outright? She thought of her dream again and felt cold. Earthson moved against her cheek.

  “Do you think they’ll stay if I truly want them to stay?”

  “It’s possible.” At her look of distress, Maddock sighed. “So much of what I do, Medusa, is speculation. I walk along magical energy lines and try to figure out what they mean, how they work. Sometimes I’m right, sometimes I’m wrong. But in this case, I do hope I’m right. The down side is there is no immediate solution. It’s up to you and time.”

  Her lips curved, a poignant and tired emotion gripping her, perhaps not entirely bad. “That sounds like the solution to most dilemmas.”

  “Yeah.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “In the meantime, Yvette has reiterated you’re welcome to stay here indefinitely, be part of the day-to-day routine. I’ll…leave you to that.”

  He rose, for the first time appearing awkward and ill-at-ease. He glanced at John, who looked as unreadable as one of her stone statues. “I’ll check back in with you, give you another update when I have more information on anything.” His attention shifted back to Medusa. “And again, I’m sorry for how rough that was.”

  “You are trying to help,” she repeated gently. “And it is appreciated. Thank you.”

  He turned away. Seeing Charlie’s worried look, Medusa thought the healer was thinking what she was. The wizard might be as much in need of cosseting as she had been moments ago. Now that her head was clearing, Medusa realized how gaunt he had looked as he explained what he’d figured out. She also noticed the slump to his shoulders as he moved away. She wondered how much magical energy he gave to such efforts as what he had just done.

  Medusa nudged John. “I think he might need you right now. Please, go to him? Clara and Charlie will be here with me.”

  From the flex of his jaw, she knew he’d seen what she saw, and it hadn’t left him unaffected. “He’s a pain in the ass is what he is,” John Pierce grumbled. “Too many irons in the fire and trying to run the whole damn world.” But he got up and squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to go punch him in his head.”

  She doubted that. She hoped. As he moved after Maddock and call to him to stop, the men paused at the side of one of the wagons. Medusa ate another cookie, letting it steady her nerves.

  “Maybe you should tell her about Gundar’s idea,” Charlie suggested. She was sitting next to Clara, though her attention seemed to be on the two men, or, more likely, Maddock’s state of mind.

  “Is he okay?” Medusa asked.

  “He is a very troubled soul at times.” The healer’s expression was sad. “He carries a great deal of responsibility on his shoulders. Some men, as they acquire power, they begin to take advantage of it, or feel entitled to it. Maddock…he worries about every decision he makes, yet he knows he cannot hesitate to make those decisions. I think it leads to many sleepless nights for him.”

  She shook her head and prompted Clara again. “Gundar’s idea?”

  “Okay.” Clara studied Medusa’s face, as if trying to decide if she was ready for that much of a shift. Medusa helped.

  “It might be nice to have something else to think about for a few minutes.”

  “Yeah. I get that.” The young woman folded her hands on the table. “Okay, well, here it is. Gundar came up with an idea for a new act. A flight sequence between a male and female performer, inspired by butterflies. He’s actually had the idea for some time; we’ve just been lacking a female flyer. There’s not a whole lot of rehearsal time needed. You could do it for this upcoming show if you’re interested.”

  Medusa blinked. Waterlight coiled around her biceps and she reached up to stroke her head as Ratqueen dropped down along the other side of her face, extending to take t
he bite of cookie Charlie had broken off and left near her on the table’s surface.

  “Um…maybe. What kind of flying?”

  “Nothing you don’t already know how to do. It’s basically the male butterfly chasing the female in a playful courtship way, so you’d just react to the male flyer however you needed to evade him. Up until the final close, where you come together in the air and drop in this dramatic plummet toward the ground. You’d separate at the last moment on a crescendo note.”

  Medusa glanced at John and Maddock. Some of the pressure in her chest eased as he reached out and clasped Maddock’s shoulder, giving him a light shake. The sorcerer had his head down as if he were listening to John, but holding a weight greater than he could carry. In that moment, John almost looked older and wiser than the scientist-wizard, and maybe John’s history had given him more experience in dealing with painful realities.

  John pulled him into a masculine embrace. Then he pushed him away with a side head slap that Maddock dodged before shoving him back with affable annoyance. He was all right. They both were.

  The men parted and John strode back toward her. The look in his eyes held her, such that she forgot about the cookie she was holding.

  “It’s kind of distracting, watching men like him walk, isn’t it?” Clara observed. “You can’t help but notice how it all works together so well, which makes you think of how they move at other times, for other activities.”

  Charlie choked on a chuckle. “Your timing can be so inappropriate,” she chided.

  “Oh, like you haven’t noticed it with Maddock. And I’ll bet you see it in a whole different range of shapes and colors. Probably with a big dose of pheromones thrown in. And I know every woman in the world wonders what Marcellus has on under that battle skirt and keeps hoping he’ll give us all a glimpse. You notice he never bends over that much, and he flies away so fast there’s no hope of catching a quick peek that way.”

  Medusa didn’t want to laugh. She couldn’t possibly, not after all that, but she had a field of daisies in her head, in her heart, and she felt her lips curve despite everything.

  Life goes on. She noticed other things about John Pierce, other than his fine body and way of moving it. The lines around his eyes and taut mouth. He was still worried about her, and she wanted to ease that.

  When he reached her side, Medusa took his hand. “Gundar wants me to join the Circus,” she said.

  He blinked and took a seat beside her as Charlie quietly excused herself, following the path Maddock had taken away from the camp.

  Medusa had Clara fill John in on Gundar’s idea. “No pressure,” the young woman added. “She could do a run-through and see how it goes. If it pans out, great; if not, no worries.”

  “Who would the act be with?” John asked. There was a suspicious note to his voice Medusa couldn’t fathom, until Clara lifted a self-conscious shoulder and shifted her feet.

  “Merc. I know he seems difficult, but during performances and rehearsals, he’s different. Very professional. Well, mostly professional. It is Merc.”

  John scowled. Medusa sipped her water. “This would be in front of an audience? Of humans?”

  She knew that, of course. She just wanted to remind John Pierce that would be an additional safeguard against Merc’s behavior.

  “Yes,” Clara responded. “I think they’d love it. Yvette said she could spell the snakes so they’d sleep. Or they can be part of it if you think they’d get a kick out of it.”

  “Waterlight loves to fly. The others can coil up under my hair, like they did on the island when I flew.”

  “Great. So they’re already used to it, which works. Charlie has a costume in mind for the act. You’d be in a full black body stocking, and the headdress that would conceal the snakes is like a butterfly’s antenna. They’d paint your wings. I think you’d be amazing.”

  “Sometimes, in the privacy of the temple, we would put on pageants and plays for one another, creating costumes out of odds and ends,” Medusa said slowly. “It was fun.”

  Callidora had once dressed up like Scylla, complete with long teeth made from peeled sticks and tentacles made of cloth. She’d painted an extra set of eyes on her face and chased the other priestesses around with the spiraled appendages flapping. When she’d caught Medusa, she’d wrapped her arms and tentacles around her, pretending she was going to eat her.

  Medusa blinked back tears, and John covered her hand with his own, giving her the reassuring pressure of his grip.

  “This is a lot like that,” Clara said. “I mean, I assume it is. It sounds similar.”

  Medusa shifted her gaze to John. He hadn’t said anything, but she sensed an ominous mood from him. “John Pierce? What do you think?”

  “Do you want to do it?”

  “I think I do, yes.” Like him, she’d seen how hard all the players worked. While Yvette wouldn’t put any pressure on them to do more than manual labor, anything Medusa could do to convey her gratitude for the refuge at the Circus that wasn’t outside the range of her abilities seemed little enough to ask.

  Plus, any distraction would be welcome over the next few days, as she adjusted to Callidora and Klotho’s death being a permanent part of her conscious memory.

  Charlie returned as John was thinking. From her dissatisfied expression, Medusa suspected she hadn’t been able to catch Maddock before he exited through the portal. Or maybe she had. She shook her head at Clara’s quizzical look and Clara grimaced, giving her a little nudge, a friend’s reassurance. Charlie managed a half-smile and sat down next to her.

  “Okay.” John looked toward Charlie, oblivious to the female byplay. “You tell Yvette several conditions. One, I’m present at every rehearsal, as well as someone else that bastard halfway answers to, like Marcellus or her. Preferably Marcellus, since he can fly, too. Two, he steps out of line, whoever his babysitter is pins his wings so I can have a fair shot at beating the shit out of him.”

  Charlie paused, obviously waiting for Yvette’s response to that. Medusa found it fascinating, how a vampire could listen through a second mark’s mind and respond to them that way. What would it be like to be in John Pierce’s mind and he in hers? But sometimes it was like they already were. She thought of what had passed between them after lunch, when he was over her and their eyes had locked, his body moving inside hers, hers rising to him. She curled her hand in his, and earned a warm look from him.

  “You’d have to get in line to deliver that beating,” Charlie responded. “And you do not tell me anything, human.”

  Her gentle delivery and precise emphasis was so at odds with how Medusa was sure the vampire had said it, Medusa hid a smile as John’s lips quirked.

  His gaze returned to Medusa and, in it, she saw he was thinking of what she’d said to him earlier, about her obedience. Something tilted in her chest as he picked up the gauntlet, this time on his own, and made it clear he was exercising it. “Then you may do it,” he said.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The small town that would be hosting the latest performance of the Circus had a Starbuck’s. When Medusa expressed her desire to go, John had serious reservations, based on what Maddock had said about everyone being on the lookout for her. However, once Charlie proposed and prepared Medusa’s “disguise,” he seemed to have fewer reservations and much amusement.

  Medusa eyed herself in the mirror, and touched the downy thick hair on her face. She had a beard and moustache. She was the bearded lady, dressed in a silk black tunic and long jacket over teal leggings. A black rakish hat with teal feathers and rhinestones fully covered her snakes. Maddock’s neutralizing contacts for visits outside the Circus boundaries had the added benefit of turning her red eyes a normal dark brown. Her wings were carefully wrapped against her upper torso and the cut of the coat concealed them.

  “The town will expect the circus players to be out and taking advantage of the local businesses,” Charlie said. “And every traditional circus has a bearded lady. All the
players will have a residue of Yvette’s magic on them, so your protection spell alone won’t draw the attention of any magic users working for MyTech. She’s spelled the snakes so they’ll sleep soundly for about five hours. Plenty of time to get a mocha latte and people watch.”

  “A mocha what?” Medusa smiled at John’s chuckle, but reached up under the hat and touched the sleeping snakes coiled in their netting. Ratqueen had resisted the idea, channeling and representing the resentment of the others. It had taken extra coaxing for Medusa to talk her into it because, unless it was a case of immediate danger, she didn’t impose her will on them.

  Ratqueen’s annoyance was understandable. During Medusa’s rehearsals with Merc, it had become necessary to do the sleeping spell quite often, because none of the snakes liked him and would try to bite him whenever they had the chance. While the snakes were peaceful in their sleep, they were getting understandably restive at being put in the dormant state so frequently when they’d had no such necessity on the island.

  We will figure it out, she’d “felt” at Ratqueen. This is a big transition for us. We haven’t figured out our permanent place yet. When we do, it will be easier. We’re trying to protect you, protect all of us.

  Though a surge of guilt told her she didn’t “have” to go to Starbuck’s. This outing was a choice, and her snakes were once again being treated as a problem that had to be contained.

  She thought of the disturbing dream again, all her snakes dead. No. She’d go back to the island and repel MyTech however was necessary before she’d let that happen. What had initially been seen as her curse had turned into her family.

  John took her arm, drawing her out of her unsettling thoughts. He was staring at her in the mirror. Bending, he kissed her in an experimental way. His face twitched comically and he rubbed his lips and chin. “It’s itchy.”

  “So no permanent beard for me?” she asked.

  “Unless you like it,” he teased.