Chapter 21 – Medusa
MEDUSA
Edgar turns to stone, but not the way others have before. It starts in his face as his expression freezes into one of fear. His pupils fade as his skin turns grey. It moves over his throat, shoulders, chest and arms. I watch the stone as it moves over him like a virus.
Horror steals my breath. I’ve killed him. I’ve failed. This man is not a gargoyle. He’s just… another dead man turned to stone by a monster
When the stone spreads down his legs, and I know all the life has drained from him, I collapse onto my knees. “No,” I whisper.
Tears fill my eyes, and I pull my glasses back on. I’m weeping, and I feel stupid. Why did I hope for anything other than what’s happened before?
My gargoyles are suddenly kneeling around me. Marcus pulls me into his lap, and I cry harder.
“I killed him,” I say, and then my gaze meets Byron’s. “I’m so sorry!”
He reaches out and takes my face into his hands. There’s so much pain in his expression. Pain I caused. “It wasn’t your fault. You warned us. We made you try.”
“It didn’t work,” the yellow-toothed human says, and his voice is filled with regret.
“We’re doomed,” another of the men say.
A woman starts to cry. And then, one of the women points behind us, to Edgar. “Wait…”
Every muscle in my body tenses, and I turn back around.
Cracks have formed in the statue of Edgar.
The sound of stone breaking fills the air, and suddenly, the stone explodes off of him.
A gargoyle stretches out of the mess of broken stone, like a creature that has shed its skin.
His large wings flutter, and he roars so loudly the ceiling shakes.
Then, his wings slowly fold onto his back, and for the first time I see his resemblance to Byron. It's uncanny. He still looks older than his son, but more like a wise father, rather than an old man.
“It worked,” he says simply. “Our way of life is saved.”
My men hug me. People are laughing.
“Now, for the others,” he tells me.
This time when I stand and move to the older people, I don’t feel scared. They move to stand in front of their simple thrones and look at me. I’m overwhelmed by the hope in their eyes. I’m not their killer…I’m their savior.
I’ve never felt like this before. Wanted. Needed. Important.
“Ready?” I ask them.
They nod, smile, and say their confirmations.
I smirk. “Get ready for your hot gargoyle bods.”
Pulling my glasses down, it’s the first time in my life that I feel joy as I watch the six people turn to stone. Byron’s father, and my gargoyles, move to my side, as I slip my glasses back on. The older people are all frozen in place, all the color of stone.
“You’ve saved their lives,” Forrest says.
He wraps an arm around my shoulders, squeezes, and pulls me to his side. I’m so happy. There are just no words. Is it really possible that I have a greater purpose in this world? That I can be of use?
When the stone begins to crack and crumble from the people, there are suddenly six younger, healthy-looking gargoyles, stretching their wings and roaring in triumph. A few shoot into the air and circle the inside of the building, before landing once more.
A sense of celebration fills the room.
Edgar gives his son an awkward side-hug. “I knew we could count on you to save us.”
Byron shakes his head. “It wasn’t us. It was her.”
The pleasure drains from his face. He steps away from us and seats himself back on his throne. His change of demeanor shoots through the room, and the other Elites follow suit, sitting back in their own chairs.
“Now, about this monster—“ he begins.
“She just saved all your lives!” Forrest says.
“Yes, she did. But that doesn’t change what she is.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he shouts.
“Watch your tone!” One of the Elites snaps back.
Edgar leans back in his throne, and his gaze levels with mine. “You have spent a lifetime killing and wreaking havoc on mankind. The punishment for your crimes is death.”
My throat closes. I knew this was coming. Why did I think my actions might change their plans? Might change the way they saw me? I feel light-headed.
“You can’t do this,” Forrest says.
“Monster lover,” the man with the yellow teeth shouts.
Forrest leaps forward, but I catch his arm. He looks between me and the elder, his gaze wild.
“Don’t,” I tell him.
“He can’t talk about you like that,” he presses, and every muscle in his body is tense.
“We talked about this,” I say. My gargoyles can’t fight an entire village of gargoyles, and I won’t have their deaths on my hands. “I can handle this.”
“You can handle what? Your death?” he shouts at me.
I give him a sad smile and touch his face. “I’ve got this.”
Marcus pulls Forrest back, and his gaze slides to the gargoyles. He gathers himself and stands before them. When he finally speaks, his voice is deep and solemn. “We request a Blood Moon Judgment.”
A few of the Elites gasp.
“Marcus—“ Edgar begins.
“We request a Blood Moon Judgment,” Marcus repeats, a challenge in his voice.
Edgar looks to his son. “This is madness. If you do this, you’ll lose.
Not just the judgment, but your standing in this community.
You will be forever seen as monster lovers.
You will never be sent to hunt one down again.
You’ll never be allowed to take a woman, or have a child.
You’ll be outcasts within your own community. ”
My heart races. “Guys—“
“We’ve made our decision,” Byron tells them.
His father closes his eyes. “Very well.” Then, he opens his eyes and raises his voice.
“The monster will be imprisoned until the Blood Moon. On that date, your brotherhood will be given an opportunity to present your reasons for sparing her life. If you lose, you give up everything, and she still dies.”
“No,” I say out loud. “They won’t change their minds. Don’t do this. I’ve lived a long time. I can—“
“It’s done, and we don’t regret it.” Forrest takes my face and tilts me up to look at him. “Do you understand? This is our choice, our fight. You've done everything we've asked, and more. You’ve done enough.”
“I can’t let you—“
“The choice has been made,” Marcus says. And when I look at him, I’m surprised to see admiration in his gaze.
“Take her to the prison,” Edgar orders.
Two gargoyles stand from the dais, and they move beside me. The yellow-toothed man reaches for me.
Byron springs forward and growls low in his throat. “Take her there. But don’t touch her.”
The man drops his hand, and Forrest releases me.
I move between the two strange gargoyles, and we walk toward the door.
I can’t believe I’m willingly allowing myself to be imprisoned.
It goes against every instinct within me, but I can’t walk away.
They told me to trust them. If this is the only way we can be together, then so be it.
When the end comes, if we lose, at least I’ll die with their love.
That’s something I never imagined having.
I look back at them one last time. All four men look like they want to chase after me, like they want to hold me in their arms.
My heart squeezes. The doors open, and I step out into the sunlight.