10. Alice
Chapter 10
Alice
My head may be spinning like a washing machine, but I’m a statue. Literally. A naked statue lying in a very unflattering position that only my OBGYN would be proud of. If I die like this, I’ll need a Y-shaped coffin.
And there he is, my gorgon with the hypnotic green eyes, now dulled by worry, flipping through ancient tomes so fast I can practically feel the breeze.
“Come on, come on,” he mutters, running his fingers through his snake-laden head. “There has to be something… ”
He’s handsome when he’s focused. The way his green eyebrows furrow, how his jaw sets. If I could move, I’d sigh. Instead, I watch him light some sage and another, less identifiable herb, creating a smoke that swirls around me like a caress I can’t quite feel.
It’s hard to keep my thoughts straight. Like they’re drifting apart, slipping through mental cracks I didn’t know I had. I try to focus, but some things blur around the edges—memories, words, time.
If I didn’t want to get out of my stony state so desperately, I might be content to sit and watch him like this for the rest of my life.
“Anything?” he asks aloud, though it’s clear the question is for himself. The hope in his voice is a physical thing, almost enough to crack the stone of my cheek.
Maybe I have magic that could help, I think, desperate to break free from this stony prison. But how do you tap into potential magic when you’re more sculpture than sorceress?
I do my best to send him a mental image of Verity and Gideon, the only people I think could help, but no thought bubble appears over my head, and Gordy doesn’t click his fingers as if he’s had an epiphany. For hours, I try to send him mental pictures of Verity and Gideon, but nothing happens.
Where are they? Did they forget me?
No—Verity wouldn’t. She’s probably tearing the magical world apart trying to reach me. Unless… she doesn’t know. Unless I’m slipping through the cracks of everything.
Then, my sluggish brain remembers. They’re traveling—some magically warded retreat Gideon insisted on for their belated honeymoon. No cell service, no magical interference. Just my luck to get turned into a statue the one time my best friend is off the grid.
Days pass. They must because Gordy grows more stubble, and the piles of rejected solutions around us grow taller. At some point, he wrestled me into an oversized robe and leaned me against the wall beside his desk—good to know my gorgon is respectful of my nakedness, even in my stony predicament .
He’s on the phone now, voice hushed, pleading. “Please, she’s…No, no conventional curse-breaking has worked. Yes, I’ve tried reversing the gaze, I’ve tried…” He cuts off, sighing deeply. I imagine I can feel his warmth as he stands close.
“Al, I’ll fix this,” he promises again, looking at me with those eyes that turned me to stone but now look so heartbreakingly soft. “I’ll find a way.”
Will you? I silently challenge the universe. Can anyone?
He slumps, pinching the bridge of his nose, and I wish I could touch him, comfort him. Guilt exudes from him, as tangible as the herb-scented smoke wreathing the room.
His next call is more frantic, the edge of fear sharpening his usually calm voice.
“Look, I know it’s been a while, but I need your expertise on petrification.” Pause. “Yes, it happened. I didn’t mean to…”
Of course you didn’t, I think fiercely. You’re too careful, too cautious.
“Okay, I’ll hold,” he says into the receiver, rubbing a hand over his face.
Gordy, I mentally prod, trying to infuse my silent words with warmth, you’re doing everything you can. More than anyone else would.
But he doesn’t hear me. He can’t hear the growing affection in my stillness, the way my heart would race if it weren’t made of stone.
More sex would be awesome, I muse, a chuckle trapped inside my marble throat. Preferably without the whole turning-to-stone part. Note to self: discuss boundaries and safe words. Or safe looks, I guess. Blindfolds, maybe.
Stay strong, Gordy, I tell him silently, the man who doesn’t know I’ve fallen for him, hard as the rock encasing me. For both our sakes. And please remember me telling you about how and why Gideon turned Verity to stone.
Watching him now, so forlorn, I wish for nothing more than to ease his pain. To tell him he’s not alone in this mess, that this strange, impossible love blooming inside me is strong enough to endure even this stony silence .
Keep trying, my sweet, nerdy gorgon, I urge silently, hoping somehow, someway, my feelings reach him. But remember, I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.
I’ve had my share of crushes, sure. Dated a few jocks with more brawn than brain, flirted with the sensitive types who write poetry by moonlight. But Gordy? He’s different. He’s smart, funny, and has this shy charm about him that could make any girl swoon if she dared look into those hypnotic eyes. And the night we first kissed? Yeah, I knew then I’d give anything to be his, even if his caresses were more petrifying than tender.
It’s been days—or maybe weeks. I’ve lost track of time, and he’s a mess. Dark circles hang beneath his eyes, more luggage than anyone needs for a trip to nowhere.
He slumps in his chair, resting his head in his hands, and something inside me cracks a little more. If I could cry, there’d be a river turning the hardwood floor into a sappy lagoon.
Please, just take a nap, I beg silently. You can’t help me if you’re passed out or worse .
But he’s up again, on the phone now, talking to someone about amethyst crystals and moon phases. I strain to catch every word, my heart aching with the uselessness of it all. It’s clear he won’t rest until he figures this out, until he fixes what he broke, until I can step off this pedestal he’s put me on.
“Okay, Al,” he starts, stopping mid-pace and turning to face my stony self. “I’m out of options here. And there’s only so much one guy with an accidental monster mojo can do.”
He retrieves his phone from the chaos that’s become his desk, scrolls through contacts, and hits dial. I watch as he takes a deep breath, like he’s preparing to dive into the deep end of a pool filled with uncertainty. “Verity? Oh, thank the gods. It’s Gordy.”
My heart, stony and cold, tries to pump to life with joy as I hear their names. Finally . I swear, if I survive this, I’m putting a tracking spell on Verity.
Gordy pauses, listens, then his whole demeanor shifts, a mix of desperation and hope. “Yeah, I need help. ”
I almost wish I could plug my ears. Not because I don’t want to hear his plea for help, but because the vulnerability in his voice is too raw, too genuine. It’s a melody of emotions I’ve never heard from him before, and it’s tearing me apart.
“Remember that incident with Gideon and the bee?” His voice trails off. “Can you guys come over? I could really use your help.”
There’s a silence, and I imagine them on the other end, exchanging glances, rushing to assist a friend in crisis. Verity’s probably halfway out the door already. Goddess, please let her be.
“Great,” Gordy says with a relieved sigh. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
As he ends the call, something flickers inside me. Hope, maybe. Or perhaps it’s the residual effect of believing in happy endings. I’m stuck in place, but if Verity and Gideon can pull off a miracle, maybe I won’t be for long.
But then there’s the after. Even if I go back to flesh and blood, Gordy will be haunted by this. Scared stiff. Oh, the irony of ever touching me again. I can’t bear the thought of him pulling away, not when I’ve discovered that loving him feels like the most natural thing in the world.
Hey, I’m not made of glass, I want to remind him. Nor am I going to crumble at the first sign of trouble. We’ve got a rocky road ahead, yeah, pun intended, and we’ll walk it together.
Gordy is slumped again, gazing at me with those eyes full of promises and apologies. My heart would be tripping over itself if it were still beating. If I had my way, we’d be tangled up in the sheets right now, figuring out the depth of our feelings between gasps and whispers.
Get ready, Gordy, I mentally prepare myself to say once I’m breathing again. Because we are going to have a conversation about fear and love and how one shouldn’t cancel out the other.
And boy, will I make sure to keep that conversation lively because nothing will stand in the way of me and more of that amazing connection we share.
It’s twisted, but being turned to stone over and over wouldn’t be such a bad deal if it meant being his. Being the stony woman who gets to see all sides of him. Even the ones he hides.
And yeah, I’m smiling on the inside thinking about it—the sex was out of this world. Can you blame a girl for wanting an encore?
Statues don’t need much, I imagine telling him when I can finally move my lips again. Just a good dusting now and then and lots of love.
He stops pacing and looks at me for a long moment. The adoration in his gaze is enough to warm any heart, even one made of granite.
“Please,” he whispers, reaching out but stopping inches from my cold skin. “Please come back.”
I wish I could reach out, wrap my arms around him, and never let go. Show him that fear is no match for what we have. But I’m stuck in this moment, a silent witness to his desperation.
Gordy, I would say, love is messy and risky and sometimes petrifying, literally, in our case, but it’s worth every second.
His shoulders slump, and I hate that I can’t comfort him. That I can’t take some of this weight off his broad, muscular shoulders.
Love is laughing so hard your stomach hurts, stealing kisses in the rain, and yes, turning your girlfriend into a rock sculpture, I plan to joke, hoping it’ll bring that lopsided grin back to his face.
Because, Gordy, I continue in my head, if being with you means risking a bit of eternal stiffness, sign me up.
He turns away, forehead resting against the cool glass of the window, and I can tell he’s close to breaking.
Stay strong, my Gorgon, I think fiercely. We’re not done yet. Not by a long shot.
And oh, how I yearn for more shots at exploring each other, learning the curves and edges not even stone could erase. If only wishes had power here.
Gordy, my thoughts whisper, don’t give up. Love is worth every risk.
Even though laughter is trapped within, anxiety coils in my gut like one of his serpents, squeezing tight with the possibility that this might be forever .
Please, I plead silently, let there be a way through this. For both our sakes.
The door creaks open. Footsteps echo. A warm, familiar voice slices through the haze of my static thoughts.
“Where is she?” Verity asks sharply, no preamble. Her voice is tight, anxious.I’d know that tone anywhere—it’s her “you-better-not-be-dead” voice.
“In there,” Gordy says, his voice cracking slightly.
Verity rushes in and stops cold.“Oh, my gods.”
I’m not sure if she’s commenting on my stony form or the weeks-long post-sex position I’m still locked into where I’m propped against the wall. I wish I could tell her I’m okay. That she doesn’t need to look so stricken. But then again… maybe I’m not okay.
She moves slowly toward me, eyes searching mine like she’s hoping for a flicker of recognition. Her fingers hover shy of my arm. “How long?”
“A couple of weeks,” Gordy says hoarsely.
Verity curses under her breath, something uncharacteristically sharp. “What a time to go off-grid,” she says, glaring at Gideon like it’s all his fault. “She’s been like this for weeks, ” she snaps, then softens instantly. “I’m sorry. It’s—she’s my best friend.”
Gideon nods. “She’s not just frozen. Her magical essence—it’s flickering.”
Flickering? I don’t like the sound of that. But the word settles into my mind like static. Distant. Fuzzy. Like a dream I’m forgetting while I’m still dreaming it.
“We need to work fast,” Gideon continues, brushing his fingers through the air above my cheek. “I can feel her fading. Not physically, but… mentally. Emotionally. She’s drifting.”
Drifting. Yes. That’s the word I couldn’t find earlier. I want to tell him he’s right. That I feel like fog in the shape of a person. Like I’m slipping through myself.
“Can you reverse it?” Gordy asks, voice strained .
Gideon regards him seriously, his mouth grim. “We’ll fix this,” he says confidently, his voice reassuringly deep. “There’s a spell. I can teach it to you. But we can’t make any mistakes. The longer she stays like this, the more permanent the separation between body and soul becomes.”
Cool. Great. No pressure.