Etched in Stone: Twilight Court Book 9

by Amy Sumida

  “What do you mean that's the princes...” my voice trailed off as I looked back at the pictures. “Are you saying that someone turned them into stone?”

  “I think it was Lana,” Dax pushed the words out through gritted teeth.

  “Is that an aspect of her magic?” I asked. “I thought she could work with stone, not turn people into it?”

  “You thought correctly,” he said stiffly. “But this is too much of a coincidence; men whom I've appointed to rule have been turned into stone. It must be her.”

  “I'm inclined to think it's her as well,” I agreed. “But if it's not one of her talents, then how did she do it?”

  “That, I don't know,” he growled in frustration. “Yet.”

  “Have you told Triple C?” I asked.

  We'd taken to calling the collective of the Human Council, the Fairy Council, and the Coven (the Caster Witches are technically a part of the Coven, even though they consider themselves separate) as the Triple C.

  “Yes, and they are not pleased,” he said. “They're holding me responsible, and rightly so. This is my fault—in one way or another—and now, I must fix it.”

  “You mean 'we' must fix it,” I corrected him.

  “I was hoping you'd say that.” Daxon flashed me a brief smile.

  “What have you done so far?”

  “I've sent my people to investigate both undergrounds,” he said. “These are their reports.”

  Daxon shoved a stack of papers toward me.

  “In both instances, the men were alone when they were attacked,” he went over them as I looked. “They were found like this.”

  “So, no witnesses,” I surmised.

  “No witnesses and no traces left behind by the murderer,” Dax added. “All we have to go on are the bodies.”

  “What type of stone are they?”

  “What?” He blinked rapidly.

  “You said that all we have are the bodies,” I pointed out. “So, let's go with that. What are they?”

  “I...” Daxon frowned as he took back the papers and scanned them. “I don't know; they didn't analyze the stone.”

  “They didn't?” I asked in surprise. “What if it isn't stone at all? What if they're encased in a shell?”

  “Shit,” he whispered. “How did you even think of that?”

  “I'm a trained extinguisher, remember?” I reminded him. “I've seen some shit.”

  “As have I,” he said grimly. “But I've never seen people encapsulated in stone.”

  “When you operate with the assumption that magic has no limitations—as extinguishers do—you tend to think on a broader scale,” I said as I looked over the reports. “Where are the bodies now?”

  “Here,” Dax said. “The investigators brought them back to me for safekeeping.”

  “Good.” I headed for the door and then paused when I realized that Daxon was still seated. “Are you coming, or what?”

  “Yeah.” Daxon jolted out of his shock and stood. “Of course.” He eased around me and preceded me down the hallway. “This way.”

  Daxon took me into the maze of Enchantment's back rooms and then into a storage area. Amid stacks of napkins, paper towels, cleaning products, and tablecloths stood the two stoned men (sorry, I couldn't resist). Every nuance of their faces had been etched into stone; right down to the tiny lines in their lips. Their faces showed surprise but not fear, and their stances were relaxed.

  “They didn't feel threatened,” I noted and then pointed to one of them. “He even looks a little scornful.”

  Daxon frowned at the statues and then nodded. “They either didn't have time to defend themselves, or they didn't feel the need.”

  I knocked on the stone, and it made a solid thud.

  “Not hollow,” I said. “But a body wouldn't sound hollow either. I'd like to have them x-rayed.”

  “Good idea.” Daxon headed to the door.

  “Can you analyze the stone, or do we need to call someone in?” I asked.

  “I can do it.”

  Daxon was an accomplished alchemist and had created numerous items empowered by both magic and science. Figuring out the type of stone should be easy for him.

  “Rodaidh!” Dax shouted into the hall before he walked back over to me. “Any other thoughts?”

  “I know of a few creatures who could do this,” I said. “But they've all been banished to Fairy. As far as fairies themselves, there's only one race I can think of with this kind of magic; the Gorgons.”

  “Gorgons integrated themselves into human society ages ago,” Daxon said. “They are well-established here and know better than to draw attention to their kind through such specific magic. And they never venture into the Undergrounds. So, why would they go there now and kill two princes with their signature attack? It's too obvious. No; if anything, we can rule them out.”

  “You think that maybe someone brought over a basilisk?” I asked.

  “A basilisk?” Rodaidh—one of Daxon's elite soldiers—asked dubiously from the doorway as he narrowed his dark eyes on the statues. “That ain't the work of a basilisk.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked.

  “Well, first off; they don't turn fairies into stone,” Ro said. “That only happens to humans. Fairies get temporarily paralyzed by a basilisk stare. And then that little bastard better run, because if he paralyzes a fairy, there's going to be basilisk for dinner.”

  “Right,” Daxon confirmed. “So, not a basilisk. But there are spells that can accomplish such an effect.”

  “Sure. Now, did you call me in to help you brainstorm ideas or did you just need to see my handsome mug?” Rodaidh slicked back his short, blond hair and posed.

  “I need you to get an x-ray machine in here and scan these statues,” Daxon said.

  “Where the fuck am I supposed to get an x-ray machine?” Ro dropped angrily out of his voguing.

  “There must be portable machines,” I offered.

  “They got those scanners that humans use to look for things in walls,” Rodaidh suggested hopefully.

  Daxon and I looked at him askance.

  “You know; they use them to find wiring and stuff,” Ro explained.

  “I don't think that will work,” I said. “We want to see if there are flesh and bones beneath the stone.”

  “Well, fuck, just get Desmond in here,” Ro said. “He can smell it for you.”

  “Desmond can smell bodies beneath stone?” I asked with surprise.

  “Through a thin layer? Sure,” Rodaidh huffed.

  Daxon just looked at Ro meaningfully.

  “I'll go get him.” Ro headed into the hallway.

  “And I'll take a sample of this,” Dax said as he pulled out a knife.

  “Where did you have that stashed?” I asked as I looked over the wicked blade.

  “In my belt.” He smirked. “Would you care to search me for more hidden weapons, Princess?”

  “It's 'Queen' to you,” I said snottily.

  “I like the sound of 'Princess' better,” he countered.

  “Because it's a rank below yours,” I pointed out. “But I've got two Queens to go with that Princess, buddy. Either way you look at it, you're outclassed.”

  “My darling, Seren,” Daxon purred, “I knew that from the beginning.”

  Daxon pushed back a sleeve on one of the statues and scraped a little stone dust into a cup he had grabbed off a shelf. He sheathed his knife just as Desmond strode in. Des was Daxon's right-hand-man, or right-hand-cu-sidhe, rather. Cu-Sidhe were a fairy race who could shift into big, hairy canines. They came equipped with the canine sense of smell as well; except it was times ten.

  “You sly dog,” I said to Daxon.

  “Who you calling 'dog'?” Desmond asked like a thug.

  “Ha-ha.” I grimaced.

  “Ro said that you needed my nose,” Desmond said to Daxon after winking at me.

  “I do,” Daxon confirmed. “Smell them and tell me if you can detect any flesh.”r />
  “Inside the stone?” Desmond asked with surprise.

  “Is that beyond your capabilities?” Daxon lifted a blue brow.

  “No; it just surprised me,” Desmond countered. “Whatever you say, Boss.”

  Desmond leaned in toward one of the statues and then the other. He took big whiffs of each and then shook his head.

  “Nothing but stone there,” he declared.

  “You're certain?” Daxon asked.

  “They're both solid like... well, like a rock,” Desmond said. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah; have my driver pull up to the back door,” Daxon said. “I need to get this to my lab.”

  Daxon held up the cup of dust.

  “What are you going to do with that?” Desmond asked.

  “I'm going to find out what type of stone it is,” Daxon huffed in irritation.

  “I can tell you that,” Desmond said. “It's aluvian.”

  Daxon inhaled sharply.

  “My work here is done,” Desmond declared dramatically as he walked out.

  “What's aluvian?” I asked Dax. “I've never heard of it.”

  “It's a common stone,” Daxon said. “You can find it in droves along most coastlines.”

  “Coastlines in Fairy,” I specified.

  “Yes.” Daxon scowled. “I don't know of any spell to turn someone specifically into aluvian. Nor do I see a reason for it.”

  “So, it's not something someone would bother to do,” I murmured. “Not unless they wanted to make a statement. But that seems rather far-fetched. They'd have to know we'd look into the type of stone.”

  “The turning to stone part was enough to make it clear that a fairy did this; aluvian was unnecessary,” Daxon agreed.

  “Which means that it was an uncontrollable side-effect,” I said.

  “It's a clue.” Daxon nodded. “I just have no idea what to do with it.”

  “We need to do some research,” I said. “That's what we do with it.”

  “Or you could just talk to some aggressive ladies who are refusing to leave until they speak with you.” Rodaidh was back; leaning against the door frame with a cocky air.

  “What ladies?” Daxon asked.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked at the same time.

  “Oh; there's a gaggle of Gorgons in the front room making our guests nervous,” Rodaidh said. “You want me to kick them out or should I show them back to the office?”

  Daxon looked at me in shock.

  “It's fucking Medusa,” I declared. “I knew it!”

  Chapter Four

  Most people think they know all about Gorgons. The name “Medusa” summons up images of a half-snake woman, slithering through a Greek temple on her giant tail, with tiny, hissing snakes for hair and a glowing gaze that can turn people into stone. If you look further into the Greek myths, you'll even find two of Medusa's sisters. But Gorgons aren't monsters; they're fairies. And six of them were standing in the empty front room of Enchantments.

  “I thought you said we had customers,” Daxon muttered to Rodaidh.

  “We did,” Rodaidh sauntered out and looked the Gorgons up and down. “I guess they weren't comfortable around the riffraff.”

  “Fuck you, Cruthaich,” one of the women growled. She used Rodaidh's last name—also his mór magic—so I assumed they knew each other well.

  As a whole, the Gorgons were a rough-looking lot, but nothing that would send me running. All of them had glamours on; concealing their wings and their snake-hair. Yes; the part about having venomous snakes for hair is true, but they also have wings—leather, not feather. Some of them even have boar tusks and scaly skin, but with their glamours in place, I couldn't tell if these women were of that lot. Either way, they had legs instead of a giant tail; even out of their glamours, I knew those legs would be there. The snake tail was pure fabrication. They were dressed like bikers; in jeans, T-shirts, and leather jackets. Heavy boots enclosed their feet, and their hair was done in dreadlocks.

  “Dreadlocks.” I chuckled. “That's perfect.”

  Every eye turned to me.

  “Because the root word of Gorgon is 'gorgos,'” I said as if that explained it.

  Some of the Gorgons smirked, but Daxon and Ro just continued to stare at me.

  “'Gorgos' means 'dreadful,'” I tried again. “So, they changed their snake-locks into dread-locks. Get it? It's fucking brilliant.”

  “We started the trend,” a gorgon who appeared to be in charge said.

  “Ain't that a fun fact.” I smirked. “So, how about a drink? Or are you here to turn us into stone as well?”

  “Turn you into stone?” The gorgon narrowed her eyes at me. “Who was turned into stone?”

  “Two princes, recently appointed to run the Utah and Nevada Undergrounds,” Daxon answered as he watched the women closely.

  The Gorgons exchanged furious looks.

  “It wasn't one of us,” the leader swore. “We don't do that anymore. There are better—more discreet—ways of protecting ourselves or getting vengeance.”

  “Then why are you here?” Daxon asked. “Your timing is a too much of a coincidence.”

  “Our sister was killed two days ago,” she said. “Her head was taken and a note left in its place.”

  The gorgon held out a piece of paper to me.

  “Ask that meddling Twilight Princess how she'll fix this,” I read it aloud and then shifted my gaze to Daxon.

  “I told you it was Lana,” Daxon declared.

  “She didn't sign it,” I pointed out. “But she did use the word 'meddling,' so it's either Lana or a Scooby Doo villain.”

  Daxon just stared at me while a couple gorgons giggled. I took that as a win; a giggling gorgon was no easy feat.

  “That's her type of scorn,” Dax growled. “It's Lana.”

  “Whoever it is, they'll soon be dust,” the gorgon leader declared. “We won't leave their stone standing.”

  “What type?” I asked.

  “What?” The gorgon gawked at me.

  “What type of stone do you turn people into?” I clarified. “Do you know?”

  “Of course I know,” she huffed. “It's aluvian; a type—”

  “Of fairy stone found near the coast,” I finished her sentence with a look at Dax. “Yeah, we're familiar with it.”

  Chapter Five

  We took the Gorgons back to see the enstoned—yes; I made up that word—princes. They stared at the statues in shock.

  “Not what you were expecting?” Daxon asked drolly.

  “No,” the leader—who had finally introduced herself as Medea—said. “I was certain that you were mistaken; despite the timing of our sister's murder. But this is definitely the work of a gorgon.”

  She looked at the other women questioningly.

  “No way,” a gorgon named Alala said. “It wasn't one of us. It had to be Ellie.”

  “Who's Ellie?” I asked.

  “Eleftheria; our dead sister,” Medea growled. “This isn't possible.”

  “You said that the murderer took your sister's head,” I reminded her. “Can't she pull a Perseus and hold the head up? I'm sorry if that was offensive.”

  “Not at all.” Medea's gaze remained locked on the princes. “And no; that's a myth. Once a gorgon is dead, her magic dies with her. You can't use a dead head to do this.”

  “Why am I suddenly picturing of a bunch of Grateful Dead fans getting stoned?” I muttered.

  Alala laughed. “Dead-head; I get it. You're funny.”

  Medea shot Alala an annoyed look, and she went silent.

  “This is not funny,” Medea growled as she motioned to the statues. “Someone has found a way to steal our magic, and they're doing it through murder!”

  “We suspect that it's a woman named Lana Clach,” I offered in a chastised tone.

  “Lana recently made a play to conquer all of the Undergrounds, but she lost,” Daxon added.

  “To you; I assume,” Medea narrowed her eye
s at us.

  “To a lot of people,” I corrected. “But she especially doesn't like us; mainly him.” I thumb-pointed at Daxon as I gave Medea a look that all women understood.

  “Ah; you fucked her,” Medea surmised.

  Daxon rolled his eyes. “That's not why she hates me.”

  “It could be why she tried to kill you, though,” I said cheerfully. “I recall her saying something about how arrogant you are about your sexual prowess.”

  “Stop trying to deflect attention away from yourself.” Daxon laughed and shook his head. “It's like dating a teenager.”

  “Says the guy with more toys than a three-year-old,” I huffed.

  “Could we get back to my sister?” Medea snapped. “You know; the murdered one?”

  “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  “My apologies, Lady Medea,” Daxon said gallantly. “We shall find your sister's murderer and see to it that justice is served.”

  “I will see to the justice!” Medea pointed into Daxon's face. “Don't try to work me like one of your trollops, Tromlaighe. You can't sway me with your charm or your cock; I'm particular to pussy.”

  “Then perhaps I should leave you to the Princess,” Daxon said with a sly look my way.

  “Shut up, asshole,” I growled at him. “You're the reason why some women are particular to pussy.”

  Medea chuckled. “Now, you”—she pointed at me—“I've heard some interesting things about. Good things. Enough good things to know that this was not your fault; no matter what the murderer wanted me to believe. But it's time for me to see for myself if all the hype is true.”

  “What do you want?” I asked her.

  “Information,” she said. “You say that you know who murdered my sister. The Gorgons will conduct our own investigation, but if you find any proof—any evidence—I want to know about it. Keep us in the loop.”

  “Will you agree to share your findings as well?” I countered.

  Medea inhaled long and deep as she looked me over.

  “This will go faster and smoother if we play nicely and share,” I added with a chiding look. “I have the resources of the Councils and the Coven on my side; I can look in ways and places that you can't.”