by Joey W. Hill
“Where are we?”
“Not sure.” He’d never heard of a malfunction to the portal system that landed someone in a gray, endless fugue where they’d slowly starve to death or dehydrate, so he wasn’t going to bring up the thought. He thought it far more likely that the Queen of the Damned—Maddock’s personal pseudonym for Lady Yvette Reese, owner of the Circus—had them standing on her doorstep while she and Maddock argued over terms of entry. She and Maddock had a love-hate thing, so maybe Maddock would have to offer sexual favors she’d take out of his tight ass.
That worked for John, no offense to Maddock. It would be the right place for Medusa. He wished he’d thought of it several days ago when MyTech’s first attack had happened. Then they could have programmed the portal to take them straight there in the event of an emergency like what had just happened.
He’d visited the Circus only once, with Maddock. They’d been performing a show the night they caught up with them. JP had had a couple days after that to hang out with the troupe in the day-to-day routine while Maddock and Yvette hashed out some stuff. What JP remembered of that whole experience was indescribable, which made him wonder again why he hadn’t realized it was the obvious place for Medusa to seek refuge. She might even like it.
Her safety, and her happiness, the two most important things in his world, might be possible there. More so than locked up in Maddock’s lab in New York. Or under attack on the island he was going to miss so badly, probably for the wrong reasons. But some right ones, too.
“We’re okay,” he reassured her. “I think Maddock’s just negotiating our change of direction. I’m sorry about that.”
“My snakes hurt you.” Her hands were on him, sliding over the wounds, the smears of blood. “Oh, John Pierce. I’m so sorry.
“They were scared.”
“Because I showed fear. I was a coward.”
“Nothing of the kind. You just needed a couple minutes to pull your shit together, then you held your ground, got your feet under you and reached out to me. All without being able to see a damn thing. Pretty ballsy, to my way of thinking.”
“Ballsy?” she ventured.
“Um, yeah. It kind of refers to a man’s testicles. Testosterone, what’s in them, sort of connected to aggression and probably very unscientifically connected to the idea of bravery.”
“Oh.” A faint smile touched her tense lips, inspiring him to trace her mouth.
“How are you doing?”
“Okay.” It was a lie. She was still deeply rattled, but he could tell she was trying to keep it together. Her fingertips were making little strokes of his forearms, his biceps, trying to avoid the wounds but maintain contact with him at the same time. He was gratified that she wanted to reassure herself of his presence, but he didn’t want her distressed about his physical state. She moved one hand to his shoulder and found more holes in the fabric near his arrow wound. Ratqueen had some seriously sharp fangs.
“It’s all right.” He clasped her wrist. “Don’t worry about that right now. Let’s think about something else.”
She pressed her lips together in a visible effort to do just that. “Can you describe what was around us?” she asked. “You told me some of it, back on the island. Cars…those were the loud things going by us, like chariots. Many chariots.”
“Yeah, that’s a good comparison. Also buses, which are really large versions of cars. They can carry more people. There were a lot of tall buildings around us that trap in the noise.”
“I smelled so many things, I cannot parse them out. Food…I think. Good food.”
He tried to remember. “Yeah. We were outside a Starbuck’s, and there was also a bakery nearby.”
“Many bodies. With perfumes, and soaps, and…” She shrugged. “I can’t list all of it. It was a great deal at once. I perhaps would not have minded seeing or experiencing it again, at a greater distance. The way you described it was interesting. I just didn’t expect it to be a wall of noise and movement.”
He heard how she was trying to pull it together, and matched her tone. “Did you ever attend any really big events in Greece? Like one where the whole city came out to celebrate? New York City is crowded with people like that pretty much all the time, especially where we were. People come from all over the world to see Times Square.”
“There was so much... It was overwhelming.”
“It’s been a really long time since you’ve been around more than a couple people, let alone hundreds, and with machines that make bunches of noise and spit exhaust.”
“I’m not sure I like this,” she said in a small voice, her control slipping. “Will you be able to return me to my home when the danger passes?”
“If we can figure out when that is, yeah. But there are better places in this world, I promise.”
If everything didn’t turn out the way Maddock hoped, there was that private island in the Caribbean where John had bought a little house with the help of Maddock’s connections and over two decades of barely touched income. It was populated by a colony of artists, less than half a dozen, most of who were there rarely and kept to themselves. It wouldn’t be exactly the same, but if she couldn’t have back what she had…
She shifted one hand to his forearm, and he winced. Her fingers found the bite mark again and wiped at the still wet blood before curling over it. “You protected me.”
“That’s my job.” The snakes had finally started to settle, and Waterlight brushed his forehead, perhaps a tacit apology or reacquainting herself with him in that way animals did after a fright. Settling down himself, John finally had the free brain cells to notice something other than immediate threats or a need for action. Looking down at her hands, his own convulsed on her arms in shock.
“What?” she asked, alarmed.
“Your hands.”
She curled her fingers and gave a start herself. The curved talons were gone, leaving just her slim fingers with the short nails. She pushed at the blindfold. “I want to see.”
He unlaced it for her, to hell with it. As soon as he did, he expected her gaze to go immediately to her hands, but instead, her crimson gaze latched onto the blood on his shirt and arms where the arrow had gone through and the snakes had bitten him.
“Oh Goddess. John Pierce…” Now that she could see the damage, she touched his biceps around the bite marks again, only far more lightly, her face filled with consternation. “My snakes…”
“They didn’t mean to do it. They don’t hurt.” They would eventually, especially the arrow wound, but for now he had the benefit of adrenaline pumping through him. “Look at your hands.”
He closed his own over one again, feeling hesitation in her return clasp as she complied. It was the first time she’d been able to curl her fingers around his without worry that too tight a hold could do damage.
When she put her hand up to touch her mouth, he realized she was confirming the fangs and forked tongue were still there. “Are my eyes still red?”
“They are. Like the sunset.”
“Not rose petals?”
“Well, I’ve used that a couple times. I don’t want to throw you the same tired lines.”
He caught a fleeting glimpse of wary gratitude, followed by puzzlement. “Where did my claws go? And why?”
“I don’t know. But maybe Maddock will have some thoughts.”
“Okay.” She put her forehead against his chest. Then she put her newly changed hands into a pair of small fists under her chin, tucking herself against him. The strangely vulnerable movement made his brow crease. He slid his arms around her, keeping her close as they drifted in a gray world like dust motes. It was like they were inside a cocoon where gravity didn’t exist. “Should I be scared of where we are now, John Pierce? Are you scared?”
“I’m not sure what’s going on, but I think we’re okay. I think Maddock is figuring out how to get us where we need to be.”
“That is not exactly an answer to the question.”
“
Covert ops guys don’t admit to being scared. Not ever. It’s kind of a rule. Admitting it can be like letting a rabid bear out of his cave, so you can’t think straight.”
“Oh.” A small smile in her voice. “Then I refuse to admit it, either.”
“Okay.” He was proud of her, and pleased when her leg curved around the back of his. “Did you know we call Maddock ‘Mad Merlin’ sometimes?”
She shook her head. “Why?”
“It’s a nickname. There’s a character, another legend, about a sword in a stone, a king named Arthur…”
She loved a story, and this was a good one. He told her the highlights, about the wizard who lived backwards in time, and discovered a boy who became one of the greatest kings of legend.
As he spoke, he could feel some of her tension abate. He should have been far more worried about where they were, too, or how they were going to get out of this stasis and into a final destination where he could control the variables around her better, to keep her safe. However, after the chaos and panic on the island and the first disastrous minutes in the portal, there was an alluring tranquility here. They had no distractions, no worries, nothing they could control but no threat either. He realized it might be the last moment he truly had her all to himself. She seemed okay with it, too, so it wasn’t just him feeling it.
Even the snakes seemed to be doing pretty well, testing the lack of gravity by extending themselves out from her head to float along like spaghetti noodles in space.
The thought so amused him, he shared it and won her smile.
“I wonder if this is what it is like, before you are placed in a womb,” she said. “There is no fear here, no urgency.”
It was an echo of his own thoughts. He buried his nose in her hair, enjoying its texture as Earthson indulgently gave way and readjusted.
“If it’s permanent, my fingers, you need not fear me scratching you again.”
Her cheeks tinged with a faint embarrassment he treasured. Lifting her hand to his mouth, he caressed her palm with lips and tongue. “I treasure those scars, my lady. They are proof that I can bring you pleasure that takes you far beyond control.” He adjusted so she was pressed more fully against him. The movement caused a shift of her hips that brought them core to core. Her eyes darkened to blood and he dropped his hand to cup her buttock. “But if it really bothers you, I could put some marks on your backside to even the score.”
Her startled gaze lifted to his face. Then surprise turned to speculation, a slight moistening of her lips, a curl of her fingers into his biceps. He moved down to her ear. As she dropped her head back, he took a nice nip of female flesh, savoring her indrawn breath.
Nail tips bit in and he smiled. “Talons or no, I believe you’ll still leave scratches on me.”
She lifted her face. “It sometimes still troubles me, why your threats of pain do not sound like threats at all.”
He felt an unsettling shift in their world, different from the one he’d just caused, and realized they were on the move again, so to speak. He brushed a kiss over her mouth.
“Later,” he said quietly. “We’ll talk about this later, my lady.”
“No, I—”
He planted a hard kiss on her mouth, commanding enough to give her that half-aroused, half-confused look he loved and which stimulated him as much. “No reason it should trouble you,” he said firmly. “We should probably put the blindfold back on in case—”
And then she was ripped from his arms.
Part Two
Chapter Seventeen
Another whirling vortex, a fit of nausea so strong Medusa was afraid she was going to lose her latest meal, but then it was done. They were there. And there was much quieter this time than that place he’d called Times Square. Though she didn’t sense John, which scared her, she forced herself to keep her eyes shut. Maddock was trying to transport them to allies, she assumed. It wouldn’t do for her to turn them to rock before exchanging even a greeting.
The distressing idea and trepidation for the unknown were broken by music. A flute, playing a drifting, haunting melody, like mist over a lake at dawn. Her snakes, at the end of their patience with all of this jumping through time and space, were extended into strike pose, in an array around her head like sun beams. However, as she absorbed the song, it seemed to help calm them, too. They swayed, uncertain.
“There you are.” A female voice, young. Perhaps mid-twenties. She touched Medusa’s knee, where she was coiled up on what felt like a rough wooden floor that smelled strongly of sawdust. “Had to take a detour and got caught in traffic, didn’t you? It happens, but you’re here now. It’s safe. There you are, sibilant spirits. Easy now.”
The young woman was humming with the flute. Ratqueen slid along Medusa’s neck.
“Aren’t you something?” the girl mused, and Medusa had the impression she was touching the snake. “So smooth and strong, so protective of your mistress. No harm will come to her here. And to make sure of it, here comes her human champion.”
The blast of energy was followed by a thump and a male curse, the most welcome thing she’d ever heard. Medusa pushed herself up on her knees, her hands outstretched. “John.”
“Ah, thank Christ. There you are. I’m here, my lady.” The girl withdrew and John had his arms around her, no matter that last time he’d tried that after a portal jump, her snakes had gone after him, channeling her panic. She had those emotions under control now, but it still touched something deep inside her, that a threat from them would not stop him from holding her, would not even cause him pause.
“Having you pulled from me took about twenty years off my life,” he muttered. “Remind me to punch Maddock in the face next time I see him.”
“That would be something to see,” a male voice said, faintly amused. “Think he’d set aside his magic scepter long enough to make it a fair fight?”
“If he did, we could take odds and make a killing,” a deeper voice answered. “My money’s on JP.”
“If anyone is kicking that wizard’s ass, it will be me.”
John Pierce seemed to be paying little attention to the banter, but that comment, issued in a tone anyone with common sense would heed, had him lifting his head from Medusa’s. He tensed enough to let her know the voice belonged to someone who could influence their fate in negative ways. Trying to regain her composure, she let him help her to her feet. Standing straight and tall at his side, she wished she could see, no matter that she was sure that would not be a good idea.
She did notice that he didn’t put her behind him, his natural male instinct when he thought her in danger. So the woman who belonged to that chilling voice wasn’t posing a physical threat. At least not right now.
“Lady Yvette, he would have given you more warning if he could. We couldn’t stay at the Times Square portal. The police were about to get involved.”
“Maddock’s poor planning ends up being my responsibility. What a shock.”
“We were attacked on my island and had to leave it suddenly,” Medusa said. “If there was any way he could have observed the proper protocols, I am certain he would have, my lady. John is very respectful of such things.”
A silence ensued, as if no one had expected Medusa to be capable of coherent sentences, let alone recognizing and acknowledging the authority of the speaker. John slid his arm around her back, his grip on her hip conveying his approval of her courtesy. Or perhaps he did it to be able to swing her quickly out of the way if needed.
Yvette laughed, a sharp sound like hanging knife blades striking one another in the wind. “Yes, he is. Unlike Maddock, who calls me Queen of the Damned and thinks his Anne Rice jokes are amusing.”
The woman stepped closer. A dense energy pressed against Medusa, pushing her back against John’s bracing arm. His muscles tightened further. Yvette had a heady fragrance about her, like the concentration of perfume from dying flowers.
“Be still now.” Lady Yvette’s hand fell upon Medusa’s brow. Her snak
es stirred but didn’t seem alarmed, a mystery like the energy that began to coat Medusa from that contact point, enclosing her in a warm cocoon. “I am making it possible for you to open your eyes. This spell will cloak you and neutralize the effect of your gaze.”
She said it so matter-of-factly, as if overriding the spell Medusa had carried upon her so long was as easy as a child’s wish. Answering that unspoken thought, Yvette added, “Our little world here has many magical layers upon which I can draw. Including the universal translator that allows so many of us human-like folk from different places to understand one another. This particular spell I’m drawing upon now will not work outside the boundaries of the Circus, so bear that in mind and learn where those lines are. If you step one foot outside of them, you will once again be petrifying anyone who meets your gaze. I’d rather you not turn the house—our audience—into pet rock gardens.”
“Especially before they have a chance to buy their novelties,” the first male said. He had a gravelly voice, but friendly.
“Hush, Gundar.” The woman addressed Medusa again. “You arrived in unfamiliar circumstances, afraid and disoriented, but you did not open your eyes, a natural instinct to protect yourself. You protected my people instead, until you could ascertain if they were a threat, even without JP here to reassure you. I told Maddock to bring you in first so I could determine whether or not you could be trusted on your own merits. You passed the first test. I’m glad. Putting you in guarded isolation for the duration of your stay, with our blind dressmaker bringing you food, would have been time and labor consuming.”
“We would have courteously taken leave of your hospitality before such extreme measures were needed,” John said stiffly.
“Yes, because there are so many other places for you to go. The local Holiday Inn Express, the Bahamas Hilton. She would be a hit out on their beaches. There. You may open your eyes, young one. Your gaze will not cause harm to anyone in my Circus.”