Chapter 16 – Medusa
MEDUSA
Icollapse onto my knees in the street outside of the temple.
The sounds of the modern world explode around me, but I can’t seem to move.
I can’t seem to do anything but stare in front of me.
She said... she said she’d right her wrong.
I thought… I thought she’d make me normal again. That I’d no longer be a monster.
But she gave me this fucking necklace instead?
I can’t… breathe. My chest feels tight, and tears blur my vision.
A necklace? A necklace I don’t even want.
And she left me like this.
“Medusa?” Harold’s voice cuts through the fog of my panic.
I turn and meet his gaze, gasping in breaths.
His expression hardens, and he sweeps me into his arms.
I know the others are around us as we walk back down the steep hill. But I can’t look at them. I’m too busy sobbing, trying to breathe, and being swallowed by my grief.
When they take me into some kind of apartment, Harold asks me what I want.
“Take the necklace,” I say.
Harold's face looms over me. “Medusa…”
“Take it,” I gasp. Suddenly, I feel like it’s choking me. I grasp at it with shaking fingers. “I can’t breathe. Take it off! Take it off!”
Harold grasps the necklace and snaps it off my throat.
And I draw in a breath.
I struggle out of Harold’s arms, and I move away from them. They’re all staring at me like I’m nuts. And maybe I am.
Turning, I run from them, spot a bathroom, and race inside. I lock the door, flip on the shower and crumble into it. The water’s cold, but I don’t care. I just cry and cry.
If it hadn’t been for the necklace, I might be human now.
I grasp my stupid glasses and toss them onto the shower floor, hating them with every fiber of my being. Drawing my knees up to my chest, I descend into a kind of sadness I haven’t experienced in thousands of years. It reminds me of the day they cast me onto that island, alone and afraid.
Young and sheltered, I’d spent the time since I was a young girl serving in Athena’s temple. I had never been alone. I had never slept outdoors, never made a fire. I looked around that god-forsaken place, and my heart broke. I felt… lost.
Like I do now.
And it’s stupid. Nothing’s changed. I was a monster yesterday, and I’m a monster today.
So why do I feel like everything’s changed? Maybe because I faced something I’ve feared since I was turned into this thing. I saw Athena again.
But if I hadn’t been stealing the necklace… if I’d just gone to face her… right now I’d be human.
I hope those fucking gargoyles understand what I gave up. I hope they know that shiny piece of shit stole my only hope at ever having a real life.
“But of course they don’t. And of course they don’t care.”
Every muscle in my body tenses. I just faced down my demons. I risked my life. All for men who hold me as their prisoner. All for men who still can’t promise me they won’t kill me when my use to them is gone.
I don’t know how long I sit in that shower before I turn it off.
Stripping off my soaking clothes, I drop them into the bottom of the tub, pull on my putrid glasses, and wrap a towel around my body.
When I go out into the tiny bedroom of the apartment, I see a white shirt has been laid on the bed, one that has Greece written on the front.
I dry myself and put it on, then go out to face the gargoyles.
They ordered food. It’s laid out on the table they all sit around, but no one is eating. When they spot me, all eyes are glued onto me.
“What?” I ask them, glad I sound angry and not heartbroken.
“Hungry?” Forrest asks.
I’m not, but I also know I haven’t had a lot of proper meals lately, so I nod and take a seat. Harold silently makes a plate of food for me, and then we all eat.
Part of me wants to ask a lot of questions, but I’m also retreating inside myself. I know it's a defense mechanism. I just want to curl up on the bed, and drink until I fall asleep. Maybe someday I'll get a therapist to help me with it. If I live that long.
We finish eating, and I stand up, intending to find a bed and drink myself to sleep. Just like I wanted.
“Just a moment,” Marcus says, and his tone is a little less harsh.
My gaze meets his dark one, and I can feel him evaluating me. “You need something?”
“We need to talk,” he says.
I want to tell him to go fuck himself, but instead I sit back down. “Make it quick.”
He raises a brow, and I can sense anger bubbling beneath his surface. “You know what we are and what you are. That makes us enemies.”
I try not to look at the other gargoyles. I know they won't defend me, and I shouldn't expect it. “I understand gargoyles see the world in black and white. People are either good or bad, but monsters are always bad. Nothing else matters.”
He leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers in front of him. “And you think that’s wrong?”
I smirk. “I know it’s wrong, but I also know that after hundreds or thousands of years, you guys aren’t going to change your tone because of one monster who doesn’t seem to fit the bill.”
“Did any of us say you don’t fit the bill?”
Suddenly, I rise, my hands shaking. I go to the tiny kitchen and tear through the cabinets until I find a bottle of cheap vodka, half empty.
“Liquor isn’t a good idea right now,” Byron says, and there’s a warning to his tone.
I glare at him behind my glasses and unscrew the top. “Liquor’s always a good idea.”
Taking several deep swigs, I don’t stop until I feel the warmth and relaxation moving through me. Then, I pull myself up onto the countertop, so that I’m facing them, and drink more slowly.
My gargoyles look concerned. Marcus has his same annoying expression, like he’s evaluating me.
“We need to know what happened in the temple.”
I take another drink as my stomach clenches. “What’s to tell? I got the necklace. Isn’t that all you care about?”
A flash of hurt comes and goes on his face in an instant. “We need to know if we’ve angered the Gods. We need to know if anyone saw you.”
Did anyone see me? You fucking asshole. “Yeah, fucking Athena fucking saw me. Did you think she wouldn't?” Someone draws in a surprised breath.
Any kindness I saw in Marcus’ expression vanishes. “That’s a bullshit lie.”
My heart starts thumping, filling my ears. “Don’t call me a liar.”
“Marcus—“ Harold begins, but the asshole cuts him off.
“She loves that fucking necklace. There’s no way she’d let you leave with it.”
I laugh, a dry, angry laugh. “Oh, she let me leave with it. The bitch.”
“Monster…” Marcus begins, starting to stand.
Forrest stands too, putting a hand on his shoulder. “She’s not a liar.”
Marcus laughs. “You three actually believe a goddess let her steal from her without a punishment?”
“It was a punishment,” I say, and now I know it’s true.
All of their gazes fall on me.
“She realized she was wrong to curse me. And so, she agreed to give me the one thing I wanted more than anything.” I feel tears sting my eyes. “She gave me that fucking piece of jewelry rather than end my curse.”
I feel tears roll down my cheeks, and I grab the bottle of vodka and take another long sip, trying to stop the meltdown that I know is coming
Then, Forrest is there in front of me. He takes the bottle and sets it on the counter before he wraps me in his arms. “I’m so sorry.”
I grab the fabric of his shirt, and bury my face into the material. I hate that they’re seeing me weak, but I’ve never had someone to comfort me when I was sad. This feels so good. It doesn’t matter that I’m not even sure these gargoyles like me or see me as a person, it’s better than being alone.
“Alright,” Marcus says. “We believe you.”
“Fuck you,” I mutter, the words choked by tears.
“Now, does anyone want to explain what happened between the four of you?”
I’m shocked when Byron speaks. “We slept with her.”
I open my eyes at the sound of a chair scraping against tile.
“Is that a joke?” Marcus spits out.
Byron meets his gaze. “No.”
Marcus rubs the thin layer of hair on his head and starts to pace. “So all of this is for nothing? We can’t take a mate. We can’t have a child.”
I huff out a breath, and feel the liquor really settle across my brain like a warm blanket. “We were all drugged with ambrosia. They didn’t break their vow. It wasn’t their choice. And don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anyone, so we can just pretend it never happened.”
“Pretend it never happened?” Marcus asks. “We can’t do that! And what’s more, ambrosia might hit us like drugs, but you four knew what you were doing.”
I open my mouth to defend them, but Byron answers instead. “Yeah, we did. And we don’t regret it. She’s beautiful, and unique, and we like her.”
Marcus launches into a rant, but I barely hear him. I lift my head from Forrest’s shoulder, and look at Byron. His expression is unreadable, but he watches me.
I'll never figure that one out, so I turn back to Forrest. He smoothes the wet hair back from my face and tucks it behind my ear. “Like you didn’t know.”
For a minute, I’m overwhelmed by him. He’s so handsome, with his deep green eyes and model-good-looks. That mouth, made for smiling and for kissing.
Maybe it’s the liquor. Maybe it’s the day from hell that I've had. The week from hell. But I reach up and pull him closer to me, catching his mouth with my own.
For a minute he holds himself stiffly, as if in shock, and then his mouth softens against mine, and our kiss deepens. His tongue moves into my mouth, and I moan and press myself harder against him.
I remember that I’m wearing nothing but a shirt, and not even my underwear protects me from him.
“What the hell are you doing?” Marcus shouts. “Have you lost all sense?”
He yanks Forrest back and I nearly topple off the counter.
Forrest has the good grace to look embarrassed. “There’s just something about her—“
“Maybe she has the power to seduce,” Marcus says, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. He looks at me as if I'm the devil.
I hate that I notice he’s muscular. I hate that I see a tattoo sticking out from beneath his tight grey shirt, and that I have to curl my hand into my palm to keep myself from reaching out to touch it.
Now that I’m thinking about it, my drunken mind can’t think about anything else except touching that tattoo… and seeing what it is.
“Is that alright, Medusa?”
My head jerks up.
I feel my cheeks heat. Did they see me staring at Marcus? “What?”
Byron shakes his head and sighs loudly. “Marcus needs for us to meet with a nearby gargoyle. You’ll be alone for a little while…”
Marcus huffs. “She won’t be alone, I’ll be here. And I wasn’t exactly asking you three to obey my command.”
Yet, as confident as he sounds, my gargoyles are staring at me, waiting for me to speak. “I’m a monster,” I tell them, “I can handle one asshole.”
Forrest and Harold head for the door, but Byron heads straight for me. He places his hands on either side of the counter, and his expression is serious. “Just obey him. He won’t take your attitude quite as kindly as we do.”
I lean forward and bite his bottom lip really gently.
He makes a sound that’s a mixture of surprise and approval.
I pull away from him. “Also, did you really just imply you’ve been kind to me? I want the record to show you’ve been a grumpy jerk since the moment I met you.”
He huffs angrily, but his gaze is locked onto my lips. “Just be good.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, with a salute.
For a minute I actually think Mr. Grumpy is going to laugh, or maybe kiss me, but he turns toward the balcony. They throw the doors open wide and one after another, the three shift into their gargoyle forms and leap into the night.
I stare at them, filled with a strange longing I don’t understand.
I hear metal sliding against leather, and I turn to see that Marcus has pulled a dagger free. It looks sharp and deadly.
“Time for the two of us to talk.”