Medusa, A Love Story (Loves of Olympus 1)

Yet she had no one to blame but herself.

“Come, Medusa.” Stheno opened the door, tempting her with the beauty of the view before them.

They were indeed on the tip of Greece, rising above the cerulean depths of the sea beyond. The sound of the gulls, the steady roar of the surf and the tang of the salt reached her nose. She inhaled deeply, unable to tamp down the slight pleasure she felt. She rose slowly and moved towards the door.

She ignored the excited hiss and slither that commenced about her shoulders. They would not tarnish this. She wouldn’t let them.

“Go on,” Euryale urged.

Medusa nodded absentmindedly.

The sun was setting. And they were on the sea. The warmth of the evening caressed her shoulders, attempting to cut through the cold that clung to her insides since she’d stumbled from Athena’s temple.

It felt as if years had passed.

But when she thought of him, it was only moments. How the sea wind would have tossed his curls and kissed the bronze of his skin.

She drew in a shuddering breath and closed her eyes against the brilliant rays of the sun. But the throbbing began anyway, causing pain to cleave her head and scalding heat to sear along length of her scar.

The faint jingle of a bell reached Medus

a, its merry tinkling a familiar sound. It stirred memories of home, of Elpis and Xenia, and her beloved Thea. It, coupled with the salty sea air and the bleat of a goat, pushed her burdens aside.

Her head seemed to lighten, making her sigh with pleasure.

Relief came when she found sleep…or when the serpents spied a victim. In those moments before they found some prey or sport to destroy with their sparkling red eyes, they were one heaving mass of muscles and sound – stretching out to ensnare their prey with one fatal look. It was then, before they struck, that her head was calm and weightless…

Medusa stilled. They moved as one, swaying in anticipation of something she couldn’t see. They had found something or someone to prick their interest.

The ringing bell drew closer, drowning out the sounds of her serpents.

Spare me this, I beg of you, she pleaded to whichever God might be listening.

There was nothing to be done.

They wove and bobbed, their sites fixed on their victim already.

“No,” she pushed them down, frantically pulling up the thick scarf about her shoulders. One serpent snatched it, then another, and pulled it from her hold. She tried to reach it, but a breeze caught it and pushed it along the dusty ground at her feet. It blew over the rock cliff before her labored efforts could retrieve it.

She shook her head, pushing the serpents away in desperation. It was too late. They would have done their damage by now, she knew. She turned anguished eyes towards the tinkling ring of the bell.

A small boy stood there, his brown eyes wide and unblinking as he stared at her.

Chapter Thirteen

The serpents hissed and bobbed, clearly startling the boy.

She could not hold them all. She sucked in her breath sharply as one bit her forearm deeply. And still, she tried to fight them. “You must leave, boy. You must run.” She could not bear to see him suffer.

But the snakes had not changed him. Even now, regardless of her futile attempts to stop them, they wove and glared at him to no avail.

The boy stayed as he was, a small and precious child. Her struggles ceased.

Athena’s curse spared children…something Medusa was truly thankful for.

He stepped closer to her, wide eyed and pale. “Can I… can I help, mistress?”

She stared at the boy, surprise making her weak. Such a guileless offer squeezed the tattered air from her lungs.