Her favorite were her fictitious men with ripped abs, the ability to speak softly and give the women in her books the cruel, but edgy touch they craved. It was ironic, really. The one man she’d ever gotten close to had been a guard at the temple and after what had happened, the only romance she ever wanted was the safe kind behind the pages of a book. It was just easier that way. No one got hurt. Or turned to stone. Or anything else. It was lonely, but at least no one died. And she had her sisters.
Maybe when they stopped moving around she would get a cat.
Still, sometimes her dreams reflected the novels she was working on. Sexy men who wouldn’t be afraid of her. And they changed. Almost to the nightmare images of bodies turned to stone—but with one difference. These men weren’t dead. They desired her. Loved her. And she would wake with a phantom kiss on her lips, reaching for the pillow only to find it was only a figment of her overactive imagination.
She’d gotten to where she wouldn’t go out on most full moon nights. They were the worst, but last night Stef and Eleanor had begged. Against her better judgement she’d relented and gone to dinner. That was the last thing she could remember.
“What happened? You went back to the hotel, didn’t you?” Stef narrowed her eyes. “Are you having trouble again? Do we have to worry?”
“I’m sure she’s fine.” Eleanor slid her eyes from Stef to Medina. “You must have gone back to bed. Stef and I did the job and when we came back to the room you were asleep.” She sat down at the small table, the polka dot dress and sling back red shoes a clear indication they were going out on the town. Her dark hair was swept up in a sophisticated updo, the roguish shade of red lipstick the perfect match to her dress.
“It’s okay. I must have had too much wine with dinner and just came home and tumbled into bed.” At least that was where she’d woken up. But the nightmares still lingered longer than most. They’d been through this round before. Her fragile state had landed her in bed for three weeks while the doctors tried to figure out what to do with her mood swings and night terrors.
Nothing helped. Only quiet solitude and isolation from the world at large seemed to bring her back to herself.
“Maybe it was a mistake to make you come with us this time.” Stef conceded, her brows drawn into a frown. “We got the item the buyer requested. We could just leave you at the hotel today.”
Medina started to protest, but the words died on her lips. Stef could be right.
“I agree. Let’s leave her home tonight. We have one more stop to make for something that’s just come up. You stay here at the hotel and relax and we’ll take care of everything. By morning we can be on our way home back to Olympia and no one will be the wiser. Unless, of course, you and the girls find us a new candidate.” Eleanor gave her a tight smile and got up. “I’m going down to breakfast. You want to come, Stef?”
Her sister nodded. “Sure. You want anything, Medina?”
She started to say pancakes, but shut her mouth as soon as the word popped in her head. She would wait till they left and go out on her own. Maybe walking around the local area would do her good. The warmth would make her girls happy and then maybe they’d be more inclined to cooperate with the selection process.
A scene from her earlier nightmare flashed through her mind and she shuddered, moving her hand to her throat. No. No food right now.
Medina shook her head, curling her fingers around the coffee cup, thankful that someone had made the pot before she’d gotten to the kitchen. Normally the call for food would be manna for her soul, but the flashback evaporated the desire to eat. “No. I think I’ll go back and rest for a bit. Maybe that will help me clear my head.”
“Good.” Stef snagged her purse off the small table by the door and waved at Eleanor. “Let’s go, Eleanor.”
“Coming.” Eleanor scooped up her purse and a selection of burner phones with the batteries popped out. Each one had a corresponding set of numbers. She scanned the pieces, scooped two matching ones and popped them into her handbag. “You rest now. We’ll see you later.”
They left without a second glance and Medina let out a relieved breath. She picked up her tablet and her cup of coffee. The further she got toward the bottom of the cup, the bitterer it became. Making a face, she rose from the chair. Making her way through the sitting area, she ambled down the short hallway and into her bedroom. Her sisters shared a room, but she always got one to herself. That was the way she liked it. It was bad enough there were little pesky voices in her head murmuring all the time. She didn’t need for her sisters to be aware of it too. Hell, they’d probably lock her up just to be rid of her once and for all.
Except they need you.
Us.
The snakes had a point. There wasn’t a day that went by that Stef and Eleanor didn’t remind her they were immortal and less prone to the ups and downs that made up the human condition. Or was it shifter condition? She had never figured that one out exactly as it pertained to her. It wasn’t like she changed all the time, but when she was angry, her scalp started to itch and the little snaky mumblings got loud enough to notice. And the whole tail thing? That had only happened once in grade school in gym class. Legs were better, thank you very much.
Medina tried to stay calm. They wanted to help her, but from time to time the differences between them felt insurmountable. Like their size for example. Sometimes she wanted to hold both of them down and stuff Twinkies down their throats so they could understand how it felt to be a full-figured girl in a world built for model thin women. She didn’t mind her extra curves, but what she couldn’t stand was being invisible whenever they went out places. Even at home in Olympia, all eyes were on Stef and Eleanor. They also didn’t have to take prescription meds to keep panic attacks at bay. It was a condition. She got it, but she hated how Stef and Eleanor looked at her when they watched her taking her pills. Like it was some kind of bad thing. She suffered from post-traumatic stress. At least she was doing something about it. They tried to help, making sure she got her prescriptions and things like that, but sometimes they didn’t have a clue.
It sucked. She had to relive her past over and over again and with each life there was a special brand of torment made just for her. In this one it was the migraines, panic attacks and nightmares. It should have helped that she balanced her supposed frailties with her knack for finding exquisite antiquities, art and writing grade ‘A’ smut, but more often than not, it was her talents that brought her more grief than comfort.
If she couldn’t see the treasures, then maybe her sisters would find normal lives. Well, as normal as it got when you were immortal and had nothing but time on your hands. Olympia, Texas was full of old gods and goddesses learning new tricks. Maybe one day she would be able to go back. Just a bit more retirement money in the bank accounts and they would be set. This job should net them several million and really, how much could a person really spend if they were eking out a regular life?
Not that she had much experience in that either. But it was a dream, albeit a laughable one for her. What man would want a woman plagued with voices, panic attacks and headaches who could turn him to stone if she hit one of her really bad moods? There had never been a line of suitors, no matter what city they landed in. Her sisters, both glamour girls to the highest degree, were in their element around the opposite sex. Stef was a kitchen witch and could conjure up things that could curl a person’s toes while Eleanor had a knack for fashion design. The women had talents and she hoped they would be able to go back to Olympia and take root. But not if they stayed in this rut.
Goddess, but her head hurt. Perhaps her so called talent was fading. She could only hope. Just like with writing, if she got to a stumbling block, she could lay her head down for a bit and come back up for air with an idea brewing in her mind. Maybe the same could be true for her sight.
She climbed into bed, setting the cup on the nightstand. She slid beneath the covers and slipped down into darkness, sleep quickly enveloping her in its
embrace.
The nightmares came fast, dragging her under. Images of both the recent and distant past danced like ghosts behind her eyelids. She pushed against them but they persisted. The heavy weight of a familiar looking man on top of her, pulling and yanking at her dress and the final sound of tearing as her cries echoed though the temple. The angry wrath-filled scream of the goddess and her body twisting into an unrecognizable horror, bringing her once world-renowned loveliness to a horrible mockery of feminine beauty.
Why couldn’t she dream of her stone guardians? Her heart’s protectors? She wanted to be surrounded by their love, not caught in this never ending nightmare. It was over. Done. The curse never would be, but gods, she wanted some happiness even if it was only an illusion.
“Is she sleeping?” Stef’s voice traveled through her torment.
Her sister had never been in the dream before? Why was she here now? Pushing past the scene she’d relived a thousand times, she strained to hear the voices.
“Did you give her enough?”
“I don’t know, she seems to be resting.” Stef again. “We should have given her three. I’m not convinced two is cutting it anymore.”
“But I don’t know these new drugs. They aren’t the same and they for sure aren’t working like the old ones. Too much could kill her. She’s not like us.”
“I think it’s just fine.” Stef clucked her tongue. “You’re trying to make a problem where there isn’t one.”
“No, I’m not.” Eleanor protested. “She’s been having more headaches lately and I’m getting worried.” A cool hand pressed against her forehead.
“Over what? She’s always had headaches this time around.” Stef sighed. “You want to talk truth here? She’s nothing but a headache, but we need her. If Medina doesn’t pinpoint some of the gallery openings with weaknesses in their systems all we can do is guess. Before she could do two or three in one day. Now…eh. Maybe one every week if we’re lucky. Too much of that shit and we’re going to get caught.”
“But I get my phone calls. We don’t need her, really.” Eleanor’s voice was plaintive.
“Yes, we do. The bank balance isn’t going to grow itself. You like our little house? Well, working at a diner in Olympia isn’t going to pay the mortgage, sweetie. But she needs to sleep some more. Maybe the vibes are rusty, or whatever messages those creepy snakes give her.”
“Do you not want to bring her tonight? Is that what you’re saying?” Eleanor countered, her voice gaining a sharp lilt. “Because we can go in there like we did in Boise and get our backsides almost arrested. Your kitchen charms aren’t going to do anything but get some guard attached to your brownies. No. She’s our defense.”
“She’s a weak link. Let her get up and find the next target. Then we can get on with it. We’ll drug her with sleeping pills like we always do and she’ll make anyone who stands in our way a permanent resident of the museum.”
“Okay then. She’ll be out for a while. See if it works. Like I said, these new migraine pills are different in the way they mix with the sleeping pills. She stopped responding to the last ones.”
“You gave them to her in the coffee, right?”
“I did. But I think you’re making a mistake.”
The voices drifted off and Medina woke with a start at the distant sound of a door closing and a lock sliding shut. Had she left her door open? She could have sworn she closed it when she lay down, hadn’t she? And the door closing…why did Stef and Eleanor come back? Her snakes were agitated, and their movement underneath her skin kept her from falling back asleep immediately.
The bedroom was empty, but next to her bed were the bottles of her new migraine medicine and the sleeping pills. She reached out and picked up the bottles, eying them with contempt.
Could what she heard be the truth?
She dumped out one of the bottles into her hand and counted. Twelve. She had ten this morning when she woke up. When the hell did they give them to her?
And why?
No. She knew the answer to both questions. Her lips trembled and the prickle of tears stabbed at her eyes.
The coffee. Eleanor had just admitted it.
“Why?”
The snakes shifted and murmured and she could feel their sympathy. What the hell were they trying to do to her? Her snakes whispered, prodding her to get up and move. Medina struggled as the pull of sleep surrounded her, trying to tug her down yet again. Her mind slipped to another occurrence, this time very recent in her almost memory. It was almost hidden, but something made her think of it and the snakes in her head hissed in displeasure.
“Medina, up.” A voice called to her, lilting and pure. The music was there too. She could hear it, quiet and drifting, but oh so beautiful. It lured her forward and she went.
“Yes…”
The music came from her blood. A haunting tune slid through her and she rose, searching for the item that called to her. She followed the music only she could hear down the steps of her hotel and up to the doors of the art museum. No lock could hold her, no boundary strong enough against her yearning. Her legs became a great serpent’s tail and her hair alive with the writhing bodies of snakes. Their tiny tongues tasted the air, guiding her closer and closer to what she desired.
Through the glass her fingers slipped, the power of an ancient goddess burning like acid in her veins. She grasped the bracelet and the music stopped, moving deeper inside of her until it reached her inner depths. This was the beauty that was taken from her. And it was hers again. With every piece of art she held in her hands, a little bit more of the brokenness in her soul was mended.
“Who are you?” A voice stole into her reverie and she turned to gaze on the interloper, her tail twitching in the low light. She didn’t have to keep the tail. Now would be a good time to be rid of it, but with it she was unstoppable. Her serpents whispered in her ear and she smiled.
A lone man stood before her, trembling in her glory.
“Get him.” Stef stepped forward, her mouth taking on an unpleasant twist. She took the bracelet from Medina and edged slowly away. A loud hissing from the snakes and her sister retreated, her eyes blazing in sudden anger.
Stealer of art and music, they hissed.
But no. There was someone else here more worthy of their wrath and he stood trying to keep her from leaving with her prize. A buzzing, hissing cacophony of sound trilled in her ears and she smiled.
“What the fuck are you?” The museum guard’s voice rose in a panic. “Oh. Oh God!” He tried to run, but he was too late. He backed up, trying unsuccessfully to get away, but Medina’s serpent’s tail was faster.
“No. No.” His voice faded off as his face froze, half in fear and half in wonderment. Their eyes met and his body revealed its true form to her. An image only fit for stone. Such should be the fate of all men. Pretty to look at, but changed to unfeeling stone where their actions could no longer hurt. A statue to join the many before him that had tried to stand against her. Let the goddess’s curse have its way. No man to love her. No man to look upon her true form and live. So be it. Medina slid toward him and placed a kiss on his cold lips.
“Goodbye, lover…” and then she was gone, slithering out into the night, the two vapid creatures she knew to be her sisters trudging along beside her.
“Hurry. We have to get her back to the hotel. If someone sees her…”
“Good thing we always book a room in the back.” Stef marched on in front of her and the dream faded.
Medina came back to herself, still in the room with the realization that something very wrong had happened. She glanced down at her legs. Everything looked normal. Her hand shot up to feel her hair. Nothing. No snakes. Just a clip keeping the black strands off her neck and out of her face. Reaching for her tablet computer, she typed in bracelet and statue in the search field hoping against hope that nothing would come up.
But it did.
Strange Museum Heist Follows Others. Guard Turned to Stone.
/> “No…”
Betrayal rose hot and cold along Medina’s skin. Panic spiked through her and she struggled not to vomit. Her snakes whispered in hurried voices, telling her of her sisters’ treachery and she tamped them down, struggling to concentrate. How long would her sisters be gone? How long had she been asleep? She glanced at her watch and groaned. It was nearing one o’clock in the afternoon.
What should she do? Stay and confront them? No. She couldn’t do that. They had been drugging her and making her into a zombie to do their bidding. Not just that. They’d been using her misfortune to change people to stone so they could get the money from the stolen art. Art that she found for them.
How could she have been so gullible?
They were her sisters. But that didn’t make it right.
Tears stung her eyes and her snakes fidgeted, quiet for once. She had to get out. There had to be somewhere she could belong. Some place quiet where no one would know her and she could just get a job and be happy. Away from her sisters and the curse that had made a criminal out of her. Medina held the tablet in her hands, let her lashes fall closed and began to type. When she opened her eyes the answer swam in front of her. Now she just had to have the courage to get there.
Chapter Two
Grayson surveyed the front walk with trepidation. Thomas had gone and done it and hired a woman to come and tutor Gabby. Without having him check on who she was, damn it all. Security was his job, and not just hanging out on rooftops dodging pigeons poop. Gods, but if he were his, he’d paddle him senseless for putting the family at risk without thought for the consequences.
Foolish man.
His palm itched, but with regret he had to put things into perspective. Thomas wasn’t his. Not yet. He may want it with all of his might, but until the man had gotten over his divorce and looked on him as something other than a hired security consultant/guard, there was little he could do.
Westmore Wolves Series: Shapesifter Collection Bks 1-5 Page 8
