Courting Medusa: Magic in Stone

By Elise Hoffman

Medusa

Irredeemable. Killer. Sorceress.

 

I was betrayed in the worst possible way by the man who was supposed to love me. He killed me. I came back. He regretted what he did, but it wasn't enough. I've continued the crusade, hunting down the worst scum of the earth, eating their souls, and turning them to stone. Trouble is, I now have a couple detectives on my tail, and an exiled Fae prince who keeps invading my space. I'm being pulled in opposite directions, and I'm losing myself. I have to make a choice: am I a monster, or can I really change?

 

Jeremiah

Compassionate. Just. Good.

 

I've been set on the trail of a serial killing supernatural who turns her victims to stone. Problem is, now I've met her and seen a side of her I wasn't prepared for. I'm don't think she's really as bad as we've been led to believe. Not even as bad as she believes. I see good in her. I believe she can change if she has someone to show her the way. It doesn't hurt that I might be falling for the softer side of this scary girl. Can I convince her to try to live differently? And if I can, will I be able to protect her form the people who want her in chains?

 

Bastian

Charming. Devilish. Exiled.

 

I am the exiled prince of the Fair Folk. My father just didn't like how I used my power, so I'm stuck in the dreadfully dull human realm. The only light in my darkness is Medusa, that exquisite sorceress. Her penchant for chaos and bloodshed is the perfect match to my own. I will have her by my side, and together we'll take back my homeland from my accursed family. Only, I started it all with a game. A game that I now regret as my sweet Medusa grows ever closer to the insufferably good agent chasing her. Now the pressure is on to corrupt that fool as quickly as possible so she can kill him, and I can win her body and soul.

 

Pay attention darlings. This is going to be fun.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elise Hoffman
• Release date: Sep 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9798223951117

Book preview

Chapter 1:

Medusa

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Medusa, says a smooth baritone voice, drawing my attention down from the starlit sky where I was watching an owl hunt for its evening meal.

I roll my eyes when I realize who is calling me.

What do you want, Bastian?

He smirks as he makes his way toward where I lean on the half wall along this path of the park. The shape of his lips quirking is admittedly... attractive. If you like that sort of thing. I don’t. I like nothing about him or anyone else.

He saunters with a confident gate, declaring his ability to get anything, or anyone, he desires. He leans against the wall beside me, reclining on an elbow, despite the danger he knows I pose to him. We’ve known each other long enough by now that he doesn’t believe I’ll strike him down without serious provocation.

Can’t I come to say hello?

I scoff at the idea. He only shows up if he wants something, and I can’t be tricked into thinking anything less. He puts a graceful hand to his heart in mock offense.

How dare you, he intones with utmost drama. You offend my delicate sensibilities! Nay! You besmirch my very honor!

I glare at him.

Isn’t the typical form of defending one’s honor a duel to the death? A spark of green magic lights in my palm, threads of the stuff weaving through my fingers. My face is expressionless, careless, indifferent, but he knows the threat is real. He’s annoying me. Men who annoy me turn to stone.

He backs away lazily, hands in the air, and still smirking. He’s trying to play off his fear, but I see it in every line of his tensed jaw and shoulders. But there is something else in his stare, too—the smallest spark of desire.

I will allow the offense to lie. Water under the bridge, as they say. He bows with a flourish, flashing a smile at me that’s all sharp Fae teeth.

Of course you will. You would lose, faerie.

He bristles at that.

Don’t call me faerie, he snaps. "You know very well I am of high rank among my people: the Fair Folk."

You don’t look so fair to me, fae. I sneer the word, venom dripping from my tone as I bare my teeth at him.

His pointed ears go pink, fury blazing in his gaze.

You may wonder why I haven’t eaten his soul yet and left him as a decorative statue. It’s a reasonable question. I’m not sure. I do, in fact, realize he’s a Lord, or Prince, or whatever, but I’ve never bothered to find out more. He’s too much of a nuisance to warrant the effort. Besides, if he is important, I don’t need to go through the trouble of destroying all of Faerie when they try to avenge him afterward. However, he is entertaining, which is as solid a reason as any for him to continue to exist. Living for so long can get boring.

His propriety is odd, considering his irreverent nature and general disdain for rules of any kind. I enjoy needling him, watching his fury build while he attempts to control it. He seems to enjoy tempting me, too. We’re both aware who would win in a fight, and he tries so hard to be tougher than I am, while remaining on my good side.

He wants to fight me over my comment, though.

As he stands there fuming, unable to walk away, and yet unable to take me on, I begin to snicker in his face. Honestly, his entire demeanor is hysterical. His rigid frame and sparking eyes, power glowing violet in his irises as he wrestles for control over himself.

It’s adorable.

My laughter shocks him out of his rage, and he stares at me open-mouthed, flabbergasted. This only makes me laugh more until I’m doubled over at the sight of him.

Some prince he would be if I can surprise him with so little effort.

Alright, so I don’t smile often, and a solid laugh from me is similar to finding a drop of water in the most barren part of the Sahara. But really? This leaves him speechless?

Forcing control into my body, I straighten. A grin still brightens my face as he regains his own composure.

A genuine smile graces his features, too. I’ve only seen him smirk. He is pretty with that curve to his lips, his focus more gentle than it’s ever been. As I look, I notice an echo of hunger waiting there. It’s admiring, worshipful even.

I am immediately sobered.

Don’t look at me that way. My voice cracks like a whip after my moment of humor.

His eyebrows press together in confusion as his pleasant expression fades.

Like what?

"Like you care about me, faerie." I spit the moniker at him to piss him off. I’d rather have his fury than anything nearing affection.

His nose twitches into a snarl for half a second before he smooths his expression again and comes to recline against the wall as he did before.

You’re from the Isle, Alice. You should know better than to use such a fowl term for my kind.

Annoyance gathers in the back of my mind at the use of my true name. No one calls me Alice anymore. She died ages ago, as far as I’m concerned.

I never met one of the fae until after I came to the Americas. Why should I care about your formalities?

"All your magic comes from my realm. Did your mentor teach you nothing?"

Teach me nothing? She taught me everything. Everything I needed to learn about that world, and it didn’t include you or your brethren. That’s not true, but I want him to go away. The easiest road to that is to make him mad. I recognize where the power comes from. So, tell me: why am I so much more powerful than you are, princeling?

He looks away from me and up to the sky where the owl has started its flight home with a limp form stuck in its talons.

What makes you so sure you are? He glances at me askance, an odd quirk to his features, as though he’s hiding something from me. I file it aside for another time as he continues after a deep, annoyed breath. Likely because the Fair Folk have given too much of our land’s power away. Keeping the gateways between our worlds open has weakened us. I would like nothing more than to right that wrong.

His voice is as somber as I’ve ever heard it. His expression is serious, the slow simmer of anger heating in his unfocused stare.

Some day I will return to my homeland, and wrest power from my father and his court. I’ll cleanse my home of those who believe our magic is free to all. I’ll make them pay for what they’ve done. The Wilds of Faerie will be rich with arcane energy once again. Then these mere mortals of earth will have to be more careful with what’s left of it here. He finishes his statement with a cruel grin in my direction.

Is that why you’re here to see me, then? I ask with an arched brow. You want me to come with you to tear our worlds apart?

One corner of his mouth tips up higher, that grin becoming his signature smirk. He reaches a hand up toward my face, a finger almost brushing against my cheek. I snatch his wrist with the speed of a viper strike, my grip bruising.

Do. Not. Touch me.

His smile widens at the threat, excited by my wrath.

I crave considerably more than that, sweet Medusa.

I thrust his hand from me in disgust. Never in a million years.

He shrugs. We shall see. Anyway, what are you doing tonight? Want to go have some fun? I can help you get some despicable mortal to eat.

I’m not interested in going anywhere or doing anything with you. In case you haven’t noticed, you annoy me.

Then why not kill me? That smile stretches his face ear to ear in an arrogant, but boyish way.

Because you aren’t worth the effort, and your soul would taste as bitter as you are.

Aww, he pouts a full lip out, but you’ll never know unless you try. I’m sure I taste delightful.

You realize you just asked me to eat your soul, right?

Mmm, fair point. Maybe we should find you a different fare. Come on, let’s cause some trouble. It’s been too long since I did something to stir the pot.

I’m not in the mood for your chaos.

He looks down at his flawless manicure, pretending to buff his nails on his tight black t-shirt.

Well, if you’re not into it, you’re not into it. Still... it might interest you to learn that I have my sights set on someone to play with.

Why would I care about that? We are not friends! I say as I throw my head back in exasperation. It’s possible that eating him now, bitter or not, would be a great idea after all. I’d have some peace, at the very least.

"Because they’re human and they happen to be hunting you." His statement sounds immensely pleased, as if he’s bestowed a gift on me.

"Someone is always hunting me. Guess how many have succeeded?"

He screws up his features as though thinking it through. How many times have you been ‘killed’ now?

Magic flares to life in my hands again, and he chuckles.

"Relax, Medusa, Scourge of the City, Terror of the Night! These particular humans are tenacious. The male side of the pairing has an annoyingly powerful sense of justice. He is good in every irritating sense of the word.

"He and his partner have landed several of our kind in the clink over the last two years. Big names, too. You remember Larry? That sasquatch? They took him down before their back up could arrive. He’s serving time for his ‘reign of terror’, as the media put it. I didn’t feel it was all that impressive. I did something similar in the eighteen hundreds and hardly anyone noticed."

You’re rambling. I have no idea who Larry is, nor do I care what he did. For that matter, I don’t care who caught him, or if they’re hunting me. It’s not like I hide.

True. Nonetheless, if anybody could bring you down, I expect it would be them. This is what happens when you leave bodies everywhere and the media catches on. Come to think of it, you may have eaten someone they liked, or perhaps they take issue with your artwork. There’s no accounting for the taste of some people.

I eat a lot of souls. Yours, for instance, is becoming more and more appealing the longer you talk.

He chuckles again. In fairness, my threat was half-assed. I’m not hungry, and not interested in eating him. Not today, at least.

Anyway, I might tag along with them. That would be interesting. Just think, I could infiltrate and give you a heads up when they’re getting close. Then, when they assume they’ve got the perfect trap set, you and I will trap them in their own cleverness and slay them together. Wouldn’t that be fun?

I don’t respond.

Oh, I know, he continues excitedly, and I can almost see the lightbulb shining over his head. I can seduce the woman. She’s quite delicious. I could run into her at a coffee shop, spill my latte on her as she comes through the door. That sounds adorable, doesn’t it? Irresistible to a mortal woman. I’ll get in her good graces, convince her to give me her secrets. And when it’s all over, you and I will ride off into the sunset together.

Do you know me at all?

I dare say I know you better than anyone else ever could. His tone is sincere and seductive as his eyes bore into mine. It leaves me feeling off balance.

"Then you know that I’ll be as inclined to kill you as them."

He sighs. Also true. A risk I’m willing to take, though. Think of all the fun we could have, Medusa! Perhaps a wager? You’re aware of how we Fair Folk love to bargain.

"Ugh, why won’t you just go somewhere else? Bother anyone other than me."

"Oh, come now, this is fun. Admit it. I’ll gamble that I can discover a reason for you to eat the soul of the seemingly perfect mortal man before Christmas. Two-ish months should be more than enough time, even if I don’t have the nose for it you do. There must be something. No one is that good. In the meantime, I’ll ingratiate myself to the woman, get in on their investigation, and ruin it from the inside without being caught."

That sounds like a terrible bet. With your magic, that will be way too easy.

"I will not use magic. Apart from glamour. You wouldn’t begrudge me that, surely. And when I win, you’ll come to dinner with me."

That takes me aback.

What?

Dinner. Real food, not souls, he states in a matter-of-fact tone.

I laugh. "You want me to have dinner with you? Like a couple?"

His nod is serious as the grave, and I stop snickering.

"Whatever for? I hate men. I don’t date them."

He leans in closer to me, our faces an inch apart.

But I, my sweet Alice, am not a man, am I? His tone is a low purr, his breath fluttering across my face. He brushes his nose against mine before dancing back as I make a grab to throttle him.

You’re playing with death, Bastian, I growl at him, my body lighting up with arcane energy, ready to strike.

It’s the only game worth playing, don’t you think? He looks at me with that damn smirk, but the depths of his gaze reveal a more serious emotion I’m not keen to investigate too closely. What do you say?

This is a terrible wager. Finding dirt on this guy will be too simple, even for you.

On the contrary, when I called him perfect, I meant it. He’s the embodiment of every knight in shining armor that was ever portrayed in art and literature. It’s rather disgusting. The world doesn’t need people like that in it.

The world does need people like that. Only they don’t exist.

What would you do if they did? He cocks his head with a curious glance.

"I would... let them live until something went wrong, and they became the same as everyone does? Something would happen to them at some point and their hearts would turn as black as any other person’s."

I truly love your optimism, he quips. Well? Deal or no deal?

"Fine. But if you hurt that woman, I will murder you. Slowly. Agonizingly."

Promise?

Do you want the bargain or not? I snap.

Very well, it is agreed. I will refrain from using my powers with the humans, except for glamour, to infiltrate their little operation. I’ll turn up whatever black thing the man hides, and we’ll slaughter them both before Christmas. When I win, you will have dinner with me, or flay me alive if I lose. Do you accept the terms?

Will you go away if I accept them?

He pouts, but nods. I won’t stay away, but I’ll go for today.

I accept the terms.

The click of the magic takes hold. It feels like the snap of static electricity. Bargains with the Fae aren’t promises, they are binding contracts. Normally, I would take a thing like this more seriously. It’s a wager that is heavily in his favor and easy for him to win. That doesn’t mean I’ll let him. And he’ll leave me alone for a while. It’s worth the potential date, just for that.

As soon as we strike the bargain, he disappears—just vanishes. No puff of smoke or flash of light. Simply gone. Thank the three realms. He does my head in.

I should find this detective before Bastian does. I do not want to have dinner with him, and if I find a stain on this man’s character before Bastian does, the bet won’t count for much. Terms matter, and he left me a big gaping loophole with that. For him to win, he has to be the one to do it. I’ll need to find out more about these hunters, and there’s only one place to get reliable information like that.

I suppose I will be on the hunt tonight after all.

Chapter 2:

Medusa

––––––––

There is a single verifiable broker for information, a collector and merchant for all seedy things. I’ve known her for years, and she may be the closest thing I have to a friend. She and I share a love of violence and destruction. She’s another supernatural that everyone avoids until they have no other options. That is, unless they’re one of her informants, but that’s a unique situation all on its own.

She extracts a different payment depending on the individual she’s selling to. For me, because we’re friendly and share some similar interests, she accepts only fresh liver. I don’t understand it, but it’s a delicacy to her kind, and she always pays me well for my contributions. So, I need to find a fresh liver.

No, I’m not going to a butcher. I do my own butchering, thank you very much. What? You thought a pig liver would do? No, no, no. Human only.

Lucky for me, I already have a mark. I was planning to devour his soul, but this will be just as painful for him, and will serve an even greater purpose.

His name is John Simonee. He’s a high-stakes gambler, and a womanizer. I heard through my super-secret information box that his last lady friend nearly died in the hospital after her blow job didn’t satisfy.

I’ve been following him for a week—a very boring week—to see what he’s about. But now I need a liver. Instead of waiting for him to take some poor girl home, then beat her half to death, then catch him and eat him... he’ll be taking me.

I pick through my closet to dig out a rich but skimpy dress. I slip into the silky material and scrutinize my appearance in the mirror. I’m not this guy’s classic target. I appear a bit more rough and tumble. What with my platinum dreadlocks that are dip dyed green at the ends, and the Medusa piercing in my lip, two rings in my right nostril and one in my right eyebrow. I’ll have to do something with them. On the bright side, he likes skinny bitches, and since my typical meal consists of a calorie free human soul, I tend toward the thin side.

I smear on my most sultry makeup, then spell on a glamour to hide my piercings, turning my hair into a sexy updo. I already miss my dreads and debate leaving them. It’s not like he’ll be looking at my face anyway, with the way my assets are displayed—if you catch my drift. Oh well, it’s only for the evening.

A cab drops me off at the uptown bar, a favorite for high society and those that prefer to pretend they’re high society. It’s all crystal chandeliers and champagne, caviar and who knows what else that’s outrageously expensive. People are starving on the streets of this city, but here they are being fed off gold plated forks and diamond encrusted flatware.

I take an empty seat at the bar where I’m sure he’ll be able to see me, angling my body to give my cleavage pride of place, and... wait.

I don’t sit for long before a flute of champagne finds its way to me; the bartender indicating the handsome middle-aged man across the bar. John is attractive. He has a lovely olive tone to his skin, and his hair is dark, almost black, curling in the longer locks at the top. His smile is devilish and would charm a weaker woman.

I know better.

An hour later, John is sitting in intimate proximity, his hand resting on my thigh as I giggle at something he said. I haven’t been paying attention to what he’s saying, but he’s smiling as though it should be funny, so I play along. He’s been talking nonstop, never once giving me the chance to open my mouth for more than a swallow of my drink. The next moment, John leans in to whisper into my ear.

I have a gorgeous view from my suite. What do you say we order a bottle to take with us and enjoy ourselves in sight of the city skyline?

I give him my approximation of an excited nod, biting my lip for effect.

His suite is in this very building, and we take the expensive champagne to the elevator with us.

I follow him through his rooms, and with a hand edging dangerously close to my ass, he guides me to the balcony.

The view is lovely. The city lights are always entrancing, and the silence from being so far up makes it quite a peaceful experience.

It won’t be quiet for much longer.

He hands me a glass of bubbly alcohol while caressing the top of my shoulder. He stands behind me, bending his head to brush a trail of disgusting wet kisses against my neck. I want to vomit.

As the hand that was on my shoulder snakes around my waist, I reach back and grab him by the balls. Hard.

The quick intake of his breath is music to my ears as I turn to face him. A tinkling clatter sounds as I smash my glass against the railing, rich liquid spattering the ground, leaving a sharp-edged tool in my grip.

He’s struggling to fend me off, pulling at my wrist, and I clutch tighter, causing a squeak to escape him. I raise my weapon, holding it an inch from his eyeball, and he freezes.

Wh-what do you want? he wheezes through clenched teeth, trying not to move a muscle.

Do you recall the name Carla Ramirez? I coo at him in my sweetest voice.

His face pales, but he doesn’t move or speak.

I figured you might. I got wind of an incident involving you two, and then the strangest thing happened. She ended up in the hospital. I pause for the sake of drama. I want him to know how deep the threat goes. I need him to know how completely and utterly fucked he is.

"Now, I normally do things very differently with scumbags like you." I twist my grasp, still clasping his manhood, and he collapses to his knees. I let him fall, then kick him over so he’s flat on his back, clutching at his crotch, whimpering.

I would eat your soul after causing you as much pain as humanly possible. But tonight, I have other needs. So, Johnny boy, I’m going to need you to scream as loud as you can to make up for it.

A pulse of magic nails him to the floor as I spell a sound barrier around us with a single thought. No one will hear him wail but me, and I’ll enjoy it. He doesn’t disappoint either. He’s screaming bloody murder before I jab him in the gut with my make-shift shiv.

It only takes a moment to open his belly, even with him grabbing at my wrist in a lame attempt to stop me. His screams are a symphony in my ears. His eyes bug out of his head in shock and terror. Blood smatters my, conveniently red, dress, and legs. Some of the fragile glass breaks off, but it’s not as if it matters at this point. I toss the remaining stem to the side and reach into his gut, pulling out his bowels with slow precision. When he passes out from pain and horror, I shock him awake with magic. I prefer for him to experience every exquisite sensation.

When his entrails have become