Medusa's Dagger (Aya Harris Collection 1)

I had a feeling they wouldn’t tell me even if they knew for sure.

“What about Mrs. Yonas?”

While I didn’t see her often around the building, she’d always greeted me with a quiet smile in the laundry room. I’d hate to think of that sweet lady becoming a victim of some psycho.

“No trace of her,” he said. “Not yet, anyway.”

I sighed in relief, but immediately felt a tinge of regret. Mrs. Yonas’ husband was dead. I couldn’t imagine how that felt. Even if she was still alive, she’d already lost someone dear to her.

“Was there a ransom note? Why would somebody do that?” Angel jumped in and pelted questions their way. A deep red flush grew up her neck and into her cheeks. She hated crimes and injustice. More than once, she’d been thrown in jail for joining a protest.

Agent Silva’s eyes never left my face. “No, no ransom note. So far, there’s no motive.”

A long moment of silence followed her remark. I swallowed hard and looked down at the cheap souvenir bowls lined up next to the cashier. Something made me want to grab one of the plastic silver crosses and cross myself like the pope, but I wasn’t Catholic, and I wasn’t even sure how to do it.

“Just don’t leave town until this case is over.” Gideon slid his business card across the counter.

I took it in my hand and looked down at the simple white cardstock with black lettering.

“We might have some more questions for you,” he added.

I nodded at the card, and stuffed it into the back pocket of my jeans. They began to leave, strolling in the direction of the exit. A sudden thought occurred to me which sent a lightning bolt of dread pulsating into my veins.

“Wait!” I yelled.

Gideon and Agent Silva turned around.

“I just remembered. Mrs. Yonas’ daughter, Michelle, moved in with them a couple of weeks ago. She has a little boy named Kit.”

I’d seen them hauling their few possessions in from a battered old station wagon parked on the street. The little black haired boy could only have been around five-years-old. He was lugging a tiny child’s suitcase up the stairs, a teddy bear perched on his shoulder.

“Did he take them? Did that guy take Michelle and her little boy?” I waited in dread to hear the answer. Something told me that I wouldn’t like what I heard.

“He took them all,” Gideon answered, his expression softening. “Even the little boy. And if we don’t find them soon, I’m afraid he might come to the same fate as his grandfather.”

I watched them walk out the door, the throbbing headache in my forehead growing unbearable.

Chapter Three

When evening fell, I sent Angel home and closed up shop. Tendrils of darkness were beginning to sneak across the city, waking up the nighttime creepies and crawlies.

While Arcana was considered one of the safest cities in the Midwest, I still didn’t like to loiter on the streets at night. The worst supernatural creatures came out to play at twilight. I didn’t particularly like running into the demons that considered the world their playground. No, this supernatural girl liked to be tucked in at home in her pjs, eating a bowl of ramen, and binging on Netflix.

Home sat only a couple of blocks from the museum. Kenneth Manor was an unassuming brick building situated next to an old Yellow Pages factory. It severely needed a facelift. Much of the old red brick was crumbling, and several windows sported cracks that webbed across their surfaces. But, Kenneth Manor was home to more than thirty families and random singles like myself. Only we could love the way the halls smelled like cigarette smoke, and how the pipes occasionally burst in the walls.

Usually, when I came home in the evenings, the lobby and halls would be deserted. It was supper time, and most families would be sitting down to dine on lasagna or blood or whatever their pallets desired. This time was different. When I opened the door to the lobby, it looked like nearly everyone in the building had decided to congregate for a meeting. The vampire family from third floor, the centaurs from fifth, the banshees from first, and even Mr. Price, our resident grim reaper, was in attendance. I could hardly make my way to the stairs. It was so crowded.

“What’s going on?” I asked Mr. Price.

His pale complexion and foreboding expression was what you’d expect from a creature that made a living off of death and destruction. His grey eyes rolled in their sockets, until they managed to lazily land on me.

“The Yonas have been taken,” he said in a low grumble. “There was no note. No warning. I’ve heard through my coworkers that Mr. Yonas already bit the big one.”

I ignored his look of glee and pressed him for more information. “Any news about the other three? Have they found the boy yet?”

“No, they haven’t. And I doubt they ever will…” Mr. Price’s voice trailed off.

I realized then why I had always avoided him in the laundry room. If I was ever in need of a severe case of depression, I could spend five minutes with Mr. Price and I’d be sure to find myself ready to jump off the nearest roof.