by RJ Blain
The whole Quinn family needed to see a psychologist. “There are doctors for that, you know. I can recommend a few through the CDC.”
I bet Professor Yale would love a chance to psychoanalyze my husband, his father, and his grandfather.
“Audrey, you fool.” Quinn halted on the edge of the nest, sighed, and shook his head. I grimaced at the disappointment in his tone; he sounded as if he had truly expected better of the woman—gorgon—who had murdered her own brother and left his body to be found in a horrific and humiliating fashion.
“My dust did turn you.” Audrey sat up, her black snakes framed her face and draped over her shoulders. “My dust gave you cobras. Maybe you won’t turn to stone when you make my children.”
Silence.
Quinn’s grandfather slapped his forehead and sighed. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“I’d do the same, but my hands are tied. Do it for me,” I ordered.
He did. Ouch.
“Audrey, you bombed Bailey’s apartment with gorgon dust. Did… did you really do that to infect me with the dust?”
Either Quinn was a really good actor, or he really couldn’t believe his ex-wife could be that reckless.
“Yes,” she hissed. “I had to know if she was the one. She is. Isn’t she beautiful? Our children will rule this world—and all the others, too—even the heavens.”
Quinn’s body quivered with tension, and his cobras swayed overhead, their hoods flared while they stayed eerily silent. “She is beautiful, but she’s mine. You hurt her. You scared her.” The tip of his tail twitched. “You frightened her. You destroyed her home. You threatened her neighbors. You threatened her friends.”
With a snort and wave of her hand, Audrey dismissed his words. “Those worthy will become like us. The rest will die. They are of no concern to me. You’ve become beautiful, you know. Those black wings. Those glorious snakes. So lovely. Had I known you would turn into such a prize, I would have come for you sooner.”
I wondered if Audrey realized she was signing her own death warrant, and the grim reaper stood in front of her. Probably not.
“You killed your brother because he wanted to remain a human.”
And she had left him the way I had found her in Central Park with her college stud.
The pleasant tone of Quinn’s voice set me on edge. I clenched my teeth. He sounded like he spoke to an old friend—or worse, someone he loved but was disappointed in.
“He mocked me. He insulted me.” Audrey’s voice rose in pitch, and her snakes hissed. “He told me I wanted a good-for-nothing washout. I considered petrifying him, but that would have been too easy. No, I made him regret his choice. He’d already outlived his usefulness, anyway. Yes, I killed him. Did you like how I left his body for you to find?”
“He had better technique.”
My eyes widened. Wow. And Quinn called me mouthy. “That was so catty,” I whispered to his grandfather.
“And rather below the belt,” he agreed.
“You’ll regret that, Samuel.”
“No, I won’t.” Quinn nodded towards a corner of the room, and I realized there was a young child hiding in the corner, as far away from the statues and the nest as she could get. She wore rags, dirty, torn rags that barely covered her.
I balled my hands into fists, clacked my teeth together, and waited, my fury burning through me until nothing else remained.
“Is the whelp yours?”
Audrey snorted. “Of course not. I wouldn’t produce such—”
Quinn darted forward, and my grandfather-in-law covered my eyes with a hand. “I don’t think you need to see this part.”
Audrey screamed, the shrill cry of a dying animal, and the crack of bone cut the sound off. Okay. I could deal with broken statues and piles of ashes that’d once been people. Wet crunches, however, went right over the line into the realm of the stomach churning. “That sounds gross.”
With a sigh, Quinn’s grandfather adjusted his hand over my eyes, and a moment later, he stroked his hand over my hair, the gesture oddly comforting. “It is. Killing a gorgon can be done in many ways. He’s making sure Audrey and her sisters don’t return—and that their bodies can’t be used to create more dust.”
Something tore, and I shuddered. “That’s good.”
“It is. Bear with it a little longer. It’ll be over soon. Ah, that’s promising. The little whelp is crying, but she’s clapping her hands. Good.”
“I fail to see how that’s a good thing.”
“She celebrates. Perhaps she is the prince’s whelp? Or stolen. She’s not of their blood or hive; had she been, she would only cry. She’s happy, as are her snakes.”
Crunch.
“Do I want to know what he’s doing?”
“No.”
Oh boy. I gulped. “What about the other gorgons in the nest?”
“They’re in torpor. They won’t feel a thing.”
“What is torpor?” Maybe if I talked about something—anything—else, I could ignore the sounds.
“Are you sure you’re certified to handle gorgon affairs?”
I wrinkled my nose. “I may have slept during the biology and sociology courses. It was a guaranteed pass. I sometimes did homework for other classes during it. Sorry. I wasn’t expecting to actually need it.”
Quinn’s grandfather chuckled. “I suppose I can’t blame you for that. Newly mated females often will often hibernate while nesting. They curl around their eggs and sleep while the eggs grow, preparing for when they need to care for the young after they hatch. It is the responsibility of the male or hive sisters to care for the females in torpor. Torpor helps elevate a female’s body to a suitable temperature for incubating the eggs. Outside of torpor, gorgon females have a body temperature about twenty degrees below humans. During torpor, their temperature is closer to a human’s.”
That explained why Quinn worried about having someone hold the eggs. I didn’t need a biology degree to understand how eggs required a certain temperature to remain viable.
“Are there eggs?”
“Certainly. Living ones, however, is a different matter. Audrey isn’t the nurturing kind, and I expect her hive sisters starved while nesting. After two weeks without feeding, a female in torpor will cool too much for the eggs to remain viable.”
I clenched my teeth so tightly my jaw ached. “You think if there are eggs, they’re dead, don’t you?”
“Very likely. Quinn understands it’s unlikely there are surviving eggs. He’s quite displeased. We’ll find out soon enough. He’s almost finished. Ah, no, little Samuel. Take their bodies away from the nest before you petrify the remains. Don’t get too excited.” My grandfather-in-law chuckled. “Now that’s adorable. The little whelp’s helping, and she’s almost as enthusiastic as little Samuel. Do be careful of the eggs, children.”
I decided I really didn’t want to know.
It felt like an eternity had passed before my grandfather-in-law uncovered my eyes. Of the female gorgons, I saw no sign. “What happened to them?”
The former gorgon king pointed at a far corner of the room. “He buried their petrified remains within the walls so they can’t be used by someone else to create dust. He’s a very thorough child.”
The young whelp hopped along at Quinn’s heels, flailing her too thin arms. The pair halted at the nest.
“Any viable eggs, little Samuel?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come release your bride. She can help us look for any survivors, then she can help reverse the surrogates’ petrification.”
Quinn scowled and lashed his tail from side to side.
“She’s hardly going to get into any trouble here.”
“Someone’s going to be in a lot of trouble if you don’t let me loose!”
His cobras hissed at me and flared their hoods. I hissed back.
“Samuel Leviticus Quinn, unseal your bride this instant.”
Leviticus? And I had thought Ember was
a terrible middle name. A giggle tickled my throat. Screw it. I laughed until I cried. If he had a problem with my mirth, I’d blame it on the sedative.
To rescue the petrified surrogates, the incubi, and the succubus, I had to call the CDC on Quinn’s phone and request backup. I explained the incident with both phoenixes, endured the twenty-minute long scolding in silence, and sighed while listening to the supervisor tear into me for failing to secure the immortal birds following their first molting.
What were they expecting from me, a miracle?
While I dealt with the CDC, Quinn and his grandfather went through the nest, conferring over each and every egg. I stopped counting at thirty, and my chest tightened each time they set one aside, knowing it hadn’t survived Audrey’s neglect and scheming.
Quinn’s grandfather found the only viable egg about ten minutes after I hung up with the CDC, and he rose to his feet, showing it to his grandson. “This one lives. See the mottling on the stone? The green and gray hasn’t dulled or paled.”
I held my breath and stared with wide eyes as my husband took the egg from his grandfather, lifting it to his lips and breathing on it. “It can’t be more than a week old at this size.”
“Bailey must not have been the only one kidnapped from New York. We might be able to learn who the surrogate is, if she survived. Go on. Take the little one to your bride.”
Quinn stepped around the dull pale eggs and approached me, holding out his hands.
How could something so tiny become a gorgon? Most marbles were larger. Swallowing, I cupped my hands together and held them out so I could take the egg. “Is there anything wrong with it? It’s so small.”
“It’s quite normal. She’ll probably be a girl; the eggs of males tend to have splashes of other colors, often correlating with their snakes’ patterning. She’s maybe a week old. Is that right, Grandfather? A week old at this size? How long does Grandmother normally hold your whelps?”
Quinn’s grandfather chuckled. “She prefers a month. By then, the eggs are a little smaller than a golf ball. She says the whelps have an easier hatch the longer they stay in the womb. The eggs can be nested right after fertilization, but she believes the little ones are weaker at hatching. I’ve learned not to argue with your grandmother on such things”
I closed my fingers over the egg, worried it felt so cool against my skin. “What’s going to happen to her?”
Quinn kissed my cheek. “Don’t worry. We’ll find her a home, probably with a couple lacking a surrogate. A newly hatched whelp draws new females to the male, which in turn encourages the male to locate a permanent surrogate. She’ll find a good home quickly.”
While I had my doubts, especially after the lengths my parents had gone to in their efforts to get rid of me, I kept my mouth shut.
“He’s telling the truth. We’re not human, little one. We don’t treat our young the same way humans treat theirs. I’ll handle finding petitioners. Since I’m a former king, more new couples will be willing to approach me for a chance to claim the egg. If it makes you feel better, you and little Samuel can help consider the petitioners and oversee the meet and greets.”
“Meet and greets?”
Quinn’s grandfather chuckled, a low, wicked sound. “You’ll appreciate this. Prospective parents will come and battle for the right to be named parent of the unborn hatchling. When it’s your turn, you and little Samuel will decide if they’re worthy.”
With a huge grin, Quinn flicked my nose. “You’ll like this. We get to beat the living snot out of the prospective parents. The most determined pair wins the egg. That’s how gorgons handle adoption. Nothing tells a young whelp they’re treasured more than their new parents withstanding the most vicious beating of their lives for the right to claim a child.”
Oh. My eyes widened, and I held the egg close to my chest so it wouldn’t get cold. “We get to beat up a bunch of gorgons?”
“There are only two rules: we don’t kill, nor do we maim. The pair to withstand the worst beating goes home with the egg, once they’ve recovered. We’ll contact the CDC and hire someone talented with healing magics to speed their recovery.”
“And they want us to do this to them?”
Quinn’s grandfather laughed. “It’s considered a grave insult if they aren’t beaten sufficiently so they can prove they deserve to win the egg. An orphan in gorgon society is rare. While we can be vile in many ways, we get this right. Nothing is more sacred than a whelp.”
I glanced in the direction of the young whelp. She curled on the stone floor, sleeping with her snakes coiled on her shoulder. “And what about her?”
“It’s the same, with a small caveat. She will witness every interview, and she will decide who fought the hardest for the right to call her their child. She picks her own fate.”
Huh. I wondered how much human society would change if parents had to fight for the right to bring a new child into their home. “How long will it take?”
“I’d give it a few weeks. I’ll ask your grandmother if she’ll serve as a surrogate for the little one. That should give us time to make arrangements and find out if there are any health issues we’ll need to be aware of. It’ll also help the little one recover if the nest was too cold. I expect your grandmother will insist on three to four weeks to give the little one the best chance at a healthy hatching.”
Quinn seemed pleased.
I stifled a yawn. “Can any human keep a gorgon egg warm?”
“Yes. Gender isn’t important when humans hold gorgon eggs. Why?”
I nodded my head towards the statues. “There are four men in the truck who can take turns holding this egg for a while. Unlike you two, I still have work to do. No rest for the wicked.”
At Quinn’s low, seductive chuckle, which was partnered by the tell-tale heat of his incubus nature washing over me, I glared at him. “You’ll just have to wait, sir.”
“It’d also help if you reversed back to human first, little Samuel, unless you want everyone to know your deep, dark, dirty secret.”
I didn’t think his crimson cobras, beautiful, glossy black wings, or soft tail were anything to be ashamed of, but I kept quiet.
“Damn it,” my husband muttered.
Unable to help myself, I laughed at the displeasure in Quinn’s voice.
Quinn’s grandfather raided the truck for supplies and took the egg to Chief Hollands for safe keeping, bringing back a meter and a spray bottle of concentrated neutralizer. Squirting Quinn with it did nothing, and I frowned at the bottle while he laughed.
“That’s not going to work.”
“Dust and other gorgon materials can trigger his transformation, little one, but he controls when he returns to his human form.”
Narrowing my eyes, I prodded his chest with the bottle. “Change back.”
“No. I don’t want to.” The gleam in his eye informed me he had something in mind, something I probably wanted as much as he did.
“He can also transform from human whenever he wants,” his grandfather added. “You have your very own on-demand incubus.”
“Traitor,” Quinn hissed, and his cobras joined in.
“This time, I’m working in my lovely granddaughter’s favor. Of course she should enjoy you at your prime at her leisure.”
Sometimes, I really liked the old man.
It took a bit of bullying and a lot of bribing to convince Quinn to transform before the CDC arrived. I’d have to pretend I didn’t actually have the vial of A grade pixie dust anymore, but I figured it was for a good cause.
Dealing with the surrogates turned sour fast, as Quinn’s grandfather discovered four more viable eggs. With a little help from a CDC representative and the privacy of one of the downstairs rooms, the eggs were retrieved and left in my custody.
I worried for the pea-sized eggs, one of which I believed was a male, its stone shell a vibrant green and gold. The surrogate identified Prince Ozmose as the father, but she didn’t remember who had mothered the eggs.
I was pretty certain she was lying about not knowing who had mothered the eggs, but I said nothing, and no one else did, either.
Before Audrey had ruined everything, the woman had been Ozmose’s bride. When she had been turned to stone and left with the eggs entombed within her, she had been held hostage so the hive could sacrifice Prince Ozmose and have their source of potent gorgon dust.
Her four eggs would be given up for adoption, as a human surrogate couldn’t care for the needs of gorgon whelps. Pain haunted her eyes. Once she left with the CDC reps to go to the nearest hospital, Quinn and his grandfather sighed.
“She didn’t want them.” My throat tightened, and I swallowed.
Quinn’s grandfather rubbed my shoulder. “Don’t judge her too harshly, little one. To you, they’re unborn children. To her, they’re bad memories and represent the loss of her husband—and the loss of her hive, her friends, and the rest of her family. Ozmose would not have left his other females while they still lived, and they would not have left him. I have no doubt they were killed. That’s a lot of grief for one woman to bear. She knows the eggs will find homes with those who truly want them, something she can’t give them right now.”
“What will happen to the eggs?”
“The Rockwell family will be offered a chance to fight first for the eggs. While you will help beat them as is proper, it will be understood if their determination is strong enough, the eggs will remain with their clan. I know Ozmose’s father well, and he will fight hard to protect the whelps of his whelp.”
We left the incubi and the succubus for last after clearing everyone out of the area. Since I had the most luck with escaping their influence, I got the job of hosing them down with neutralizer and hightailing it out of the area.
Leaving them a note, a charged cell phone, and instructions to call for a pickup once they were in full control of themselves seemed a little rude in my opinion. However, even with all the precautions I took, they managed to influence me before I made it back to the truck.
The way Quinn smirked at me warned me he knew it, too, and would enjoy himself a great deal later. I feigned anger, but he saw right through me.