Cast in Stone

by Bilinda Sheehan

  Swiping at my eyes, I brushed away my own tears, but it was a fruitless effort. The harder Merry cried, the more intense my own emotions became.

  I sat at the table and sobbed, feeling like a complete idiot as my shoulders shook and I hiccupped through the worst of my tears.

  “Ssh, baby girl, it’s all right,” Carolyn crooned as she cuddled her daughter against her body and rocked her back and forth. “Everything is fine. Jenna is fine, see?” Carolyn gave me a desperate look over Merry’s head.

  “I’m totally fine,” I said, before another sob swallowed my words. And the more I thought about it, the more I realised I was fine. The emotions belonged to Merry, not me. Drawing in a shaky breath, I fought to push her emotions back, to find the calm within my own mind.

  It took several deep breaths and the nails of my right hand digging into my leg to regain my equilibrium. Blinking away the last of my tears, I met Merry’s watery gaze across the table and smiled at her.

  “See, totally fine,” I said, my voice finally even.

  The little girl gave me a small, tentative smile before her face broke into a wide grin. I'd never before seen a smile so pure, so perfect and innocent, on any living creature.

  Seeing her daughter relax made some of Carolyn’s tension ebb away. "Now you go and play," Carolyn said, pushing Merry toward the living room. I watched her go, a bright smile on her tear-streaked face. How she could change her mood so quickly was beyond me.

  The moment she was out of earshot, Carolyn turned back to me, her face a mask of concern. "What happened to you?"

  It seemed like such a simple question, something I really should have been able to answer. But how was I supposed to explain what had happened in the woods? Or about the creature that had attacked me? But, more importantly, how was I supposed to explain my failure to save Tracey? The knowledge that I’d let her down, that I’d allowed that monster to drag her off, gnawed at my insides, turning my stomach.

  Trying to explain would only draw Carolyn into a mess that didn't concern her, and from what I’d seen so far, she was already high-strung enough. She didn't need me adding to her problems.

  "I really don't think you want to know," I said, bracing my hands on the table and pushing up onto my feet.

  "Look, I get it, you’re secretive and mysterious. You've taken us in here, given us a roof over our heads, when others would have turned us away." I could see the struggle in her eyes, the emotion that ebbed and flowed there, and I knew it wouldn’t take much to push her over the edge. If she didn't get whatever was plaguing her off her chest soon, well, if Merry’s emotion could overflow, then I was pretty sure Carolyn’s could too. And if she blew her top, who would protect Merry? Who would bring Carolyn back from the brink of destruction? It sure as hell wasn’t going to be me. I could barely look after myself, so looking after anyone else was out of the question.

  “Well, you didn’t exactly give me much of a choice,” I said, softening my words with a smile.

  Her concerned look didn’t change, and she shot a worried glance toward where Merry was playing.

  “Is this going to come back to bite us in the ass?” she asked finally.

  “Honestly? I have no idea. In theory it shouldn’t, but like everything in this life I’ve learned there are no guarantees.”

  The tension in her shoulders disappeared suddenly and she sagged forward, dropping onto one of the kitchen chairs.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  “Not really, but I will be,” she said. “Adrian said you were honest and trustworthy, and I’m beginning to see what he meant by honest to a fault.” Her voice was devoid of any harshness, but the words didn’t exactly feel like a compliment.

  “And the trustworthy bit?”

  “Keeping secrets doesn’t exactly lend itself to that title, but I keep them too, so I’m not one to preach.”

  With a sigh, I grabbed a glass of water and a packet of painkillers before heading for the stairs. Carolyn remained silent and watched me go, but I could feel her curiosity boring beneath my skin, pricking at me as I took the stairs gingerly.

  Maybe she was right. Perhaps I wasn’t particularly trustworthy because of the secrets I kept. And maybe, given some time, I would change that, open up to her and tell her exactly what had happened in the woods. But that time wasn’t now, at least not until I wrapped my own head around what had happened. Until then, she could think of me as untrustworthy if she pleased.

  Chapter 11

  I’d begun to feel somewhat more human, if that was even possible for a gorgon, after a shower and a couple of pain pills to ease the worst of the cuts and grazes I’d suffered as a result of my frolic in the woods. Stretching out on the bed had seemed like an even better idea, and two seconds after my head hit the pillow I was out.

  The sound of hammering on the front door woke me from a dreamless sleep. Watery sunlight streamed in through the curtainless window set high over the bed, and I stared up at the dust motes that danced overhead. I seriously needed to look into getting someone to clean this place out. A layer of dust an inch thick covered most of the unused surfaces in the bedroom.

  The pounding on the front door started up again, and I sat bolt upright in the bed, my body sinking into the soft, feathery mattress.

  I reached beneath my pillow, my fingers closing around one of my custom-made karambits. The wickedly sharp blade glinted in the sunlight as I slipped from the bed and crept to the bedroom door.

  The house was silent as the grave, and my senses bristled with unease. Where the hell were Carolyn and Merry? When I’d gone to sleep, it had been to Merry’s happy clapping and laughter as she played in the garden beneath my bedroom window.

  I slinked down the stairs and followed the curve of the wall, peering out through the living room window in an attempt to see who was trying to break down my front door. The back bumper of a black SUV was just visible through the window; it didn’t belong to the Land Rover, so I could only assume it was the method of transportation for my unexpected guest.

  “I know you’re in there, Jenna,” a familiar male voice called to me from outside the door.

  I froze, holding my breath.

  “Look, hiding isn’t going to make this any better. If you don’t open the door, I’m going to kick it in and pretend I heard someone in distress inside. It’ll be all the probable cause I need.”

  Swallowing back the bile that crept up my throat, I rolled my shoulders, my neck making a satisfying crack as I headed for the door. Repositioning the blade in my hand to keep it hidden behind my back, I tugged open the door and came face-to-face with Grey’s piercing black eyes.

  "See, that wasn't so hard, now was it?” A grin curled the corners of his perfect lips.

  Geez, Jenna, now is not the time to focus on his pleasing attributes… kissable lips mean absolutely nothing. The voice in my head had a point, and yet I couldn’t shake the thought of just how pleasing his attributes could be. I was positive he’d know just what to do with those lips to silence the voice in my head.

  Summoning every ounce of irritation I had in my body, and considering he'd woken me up from a nap there was quite a lot to be found, I glared at him and propped one fist on my hip.

  "What do you want?" I gritted the words out from between my teeth. “You woke me up.”

  “You going to invite me in?" Despite his light tone, I knew there was more to his question than he was admitting.

  “No.” I started to slam the door, but his booted foot jammed in the gap, bringing the door to a shuddering stop. He winced, and a sliver of satisfaction pierced through me. At least it had hurt.

  “You really should invite me in,” he said again, this time sounding a little less friendly.

  “Why?”

  "Because right now, I'm the only thing standing between you and the human police combing the woods from discovering your DNA at the crime scene." His voice was now completely devoid of warmth, which was at odds with the smile on his face, makin
g me think he was far more dangerous than he wanted anyone to believe. But that only made me feel even more irritated. “Not to mention the tip the police received last night of a suspicious jeep left abandoned on the side of the road near the crime scene. The description of which matches yours…” He jerked his head in the direction of my Land Rover parked on the drive.

  His grin was infuriating, and I’d never wanted to wipe the smile from someone’s face so much in my entire life.

  "What crime scene?" I feigned innocence, flexing my fingers on the knife.

  He rolled his eyes. “Cut the bullshit,” he said, and pulled an evidence bag out from behind his back. He let it swing from his finger, giving me a clear view of its contents.

  Watching the satisfaction flood into his eyes did nothing to improve my soured mood. My missing blade sat inside the plastic baggy. So stupid. I never lost my blades, and I sure as hell never left them behind at crime scenes.

  “The crime scene where you dropped this," he said, his smile never faltering as his dark eyes flashed with amusement. He had me, and he knew it. I contemplated punching him. If anything, it would wipe the shit-eating grin off his face, and it might even make me feel a little better.

  "It's not mine," I said. I wasn’t admitting to anything until I had more information. "You could have gotten one of those anywhere." I gestured to the blade in the bag. “You know too much about me. For all I know, this is just another of your plans to get me back working for Division 6.”

  "Really?” He raised an eyebrow speculatively. “That’s a stretch, even by your standards, Jenna. Anyway, last time I checked, these custom-built jobs were pretty expensive.” He waggled the bag irritatingly in my face. “My own set me back a pretty penny.”

  I started to open my mouth, but he cut me off with a maddening smile. “Oh, I haven’t told you the best bit yet.” He paused for dramatic effect, and when he continued, his words sent both my denial and my stomach tumbling into my boots. “It’s covered in your fingerprints.” He brought the bag back to his own face and peered in at the blade. “I'm pretty sure, with a closer look and a little luminol, I’ll find the handle covered in your blood. That's the problem with leather grips; the blood soaks in, and it's nearly impossible to get it out. But then, you should already know that.”

  I kept my lips pressed firmly together and flipped the knife over in my hand before folding my arms across my chest.

  Only the faintest hint of unease crossed his features at the sight of the karambit, but he seemed utterly unsurprised that I was holding it.

  Glancing over his shoulder, I satisfied myself that his was the only car on the drive aside from my own. I couldn't see any other police officers, and he hadn’t brought his little Division 6 newbie with him, so he wasn’t here to arrest me. Which left just one option: he wanted something from me. And I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like whatever that something was.

  "Are you going to stay silent and force me to act on my information, or will you invite me in so we can chat?” His words held an edge that hadn't been there before. He hadn’t always been so impatient… what had happened to change him?

  Stepping back from the doorway, I gestured for him to come inside. It wouldn’t hurt to know what he had on me; in fact, I was pretty sure it was the smartest move I could make.

  He strode ahead of me, but I could tell from the tension in his shoulders that he wasn't entirely comfortable having me at his back. That knowledge alone was enough to make me smile. Grey definitely didn’t frighten easily, and yet his tension coated the air.

  “Just head into the kitchen," I said, manoeuvring him in that direction. "You want something to drink?" I sure as heck needed one, especially if I was going to be listening to whatever crap he was about to lay at my door.

  Grey shot me a curious glance over his shoulder. Whatever he saw in my expression caused some of the tension in his shoulders to ease.

  "Sure, I'll have whatever you're having."

  Nodding, I headed for the cupboard and tugged it open as he settled onto one of the wooden kitchen chairs. He laid the forensics bag containing my blade in the centre of the table. It was an interview tactic we’d learned at Division 6, a rule that said: keep your target off-balance by letting them know you have the upper hand at all times.

  Drawing in a deep breath, I took down two tumblers and a half-empty bottle of whiskey. I set it all out on the table and filled the glasses to the brim; any bartender worth their salt would have had a fit, but then they probably didn’t have many dealings with dead bodies and cops.

  Most would probably consider it too early to drink, but it was five o'clock somewhere.

  Grey raised an eyebrow at the amount of whiskey I'd poured for him but made no comment. Instead, he scooped it up with a shrug and knocked it back, grimacing slightly as he slammed the glass back down on the wooden table. When he met my gaze, I could see the challenge in his eyes, and it brought back memories of how it used to be between us.

  Without another thought, I followed suit, emptying my own glass in one gulp. The alcohol burned down the back of my throat, warming me from the inside out. I poured us both another glass. Alcohol didn’t affect either of us the same way it did with the humans. Being a gorgon meant I could finish the bottle without so much as getting even slightly tipsy.

  The joy of a faster metabolism. I didn’t envy the humans their hangovers, but having the ability to drink enough to forget my troubles? Well, if a hangover was the price, then it seemed one worth paying.

  "So why are you really here?" I asked, unable to contain my curiosity any longer.

  "What, not worried I'm here to arrest you?"

  A bubble of laughter escaped me, and I raised my palms in mock surrender. "Well, if you are, what's stopping you? I'm right here, agent.”

  He hesitated and stared down into his full glass. When he raised his gaze again, the easy smile I'd grown so used to was gone.

  "You're right, I'm not here to arrest you. Not yet, anyway," he said. "I want to know what you were doing in the woods."

  “No, you want to know if I killed the guy in the woods,” I said, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.

  He shrugged. "Same thing."

  “Is it? You know me, Grey. Do you think I’m killing humans now?”

  “People change, Jenna. I don’t know what you’re capable of anymore.”

  His words hit me like a bucket of ice water, and I fought the urge to retort with a snide remark.

  "Nope." I picked my glass up from the table and emptied it in one gulp. The fiery liquid brought tears to my eyes as it burned down the back of my throat and settled in my stomach.

  Grey sighed with frustration. "Nope what? Nope, you didn't kill him, or nope, it's not the same thing.” He leaned across the table toward me. “Which is it, because from where I'm sitting, you're the best suspect we've got."

  "No, I didn't kill him. And where the hell do you get off coming into my house and telling me I'm the best suspect you have, when not so long ago you were begging for my help?" I couldn't keep the anger from my voice. I was so tired of jerkwads like him always telling me what I could and couldn't do. Or, in Grey's case, what I had and hadn’t done.

  "Listen, if you didn't kill him, then who did? And don't pretend you don't know, because we both know that’s a lie."

  "Not who, but what. And before you ask me, I don't know what it was. It’s a little hard to get a clear view of something like that in the dark when it’s using you as a punching bag.”

  He gave me an assessing glare before nodding. "Fine, but you did see something. I'd like to know what that something was.”

  I closed my eyes, and just like that I was back in the forest, the creature’s glowing blue eyes peering down at me as it sucked all the warmth from my body. What had it been trying to do? I'd never felt anything like that in my life, and I’d been around for a while and had suffered all manners of torture.

  But this had been something completely new. And if my po
wer hadn’t kicked in when it did…

  "Honestly, I'm not sure where to begin describing it. It was like all the shadows in the forest flowed into one another, creating one swirling mass of darkness that was continuously changing form."

  "So it didn't have a body. But if that's the case, how did it rip apart its victim?" His voice was filled with curiosity. But he also didn't seem surprised by my description, which made me think maybe he knew more about this creature than he was letting on.

  "I don't know," I said. "I've never felt anything manipulate shadows like that. All I know for certain is that it’s strong. Strong enough to pick me up and toss me against a tree like I was nothing more than a sack of feathers." The sudden memory of its clawed hands slicing into my shoulders caused my eyes to snap open.

  Without registering who was sitting across the table from me and what he might think, I jerked down the sleeve of my T-shirt and stared at the freshly healed shiny pink scars that crisscrossed my shoulder blades.

  Grey was on his feet and crossing the floor toward me before I had a chance to tell him to stay where he was. My fingers snagged in the sleeve as I tried to shrug back into my T-shirt, giving him enough time to grip the neckline and tug it down once more, exposing the wounds.

  I opened my mouth to protest, but the words stuck in my throat as he gently traced his finger over the largest claw mark. I could still remember the creature’s touch, but Grey’s went a long way toward clearing my mind of that horror. His touch was feather-light, tender even, and my breath caught as I glanced up at his face with wide eyes.

  “Christ, Jenna, you didn't say it hurt you," he said softly, gazing down at me. I’d thought I’d never see that type of concern in his eyes for me again. But then the last time he’d looked at me like that, it hadn’t exactly ended well.

  I contemplated all the different ways I could answer him and finally settled for my old, reliable persona. You couldn’t really go wrong with snarky, and I didn’t like the warm feeling Grey was creating in my chest each time his thumb stroked rhythmically against my skin.