Medusa's Dagger (Aya Harris Collection 1)

“Way to keep positive thoughts,” I told him, pushing my way through the rest of the crowd.

Nearing the staircase, I saw a flash light up the room. Surrounding the stairs were at least six reporters. A few of them had notepads and recorders in their hands. Another had a big camera with a giant flash. Perched a few steps up was a news reporter with big teeth, a giant mic, and a cameraman standing next to him. I recognized the reporter instantly.

Ian Welch was a bigwig at the local station, always the first on the scene for crime beats. Last year, he won an award for reporter of the year. There were even rumors that Good Morning America was interested in snapping him up for national news. Anyone else would call him lucky. But then again, luck didn’t have much to do with the deal he’d made with the demon he hosted in his body.

The air around him shimmered, and for a moment, I caught a glimpse of his demon side – an ugly rotten creature with crooked fangs and bloodshot eyes. A second later, the shimmer was gone, and Ian Welch stood in his place again, perfectly gelled hair and all.

I didn’t know what kind of deal Ian had made with his demon sidekick. Probably gave up his firstborn or the last twenty years of his life. Who knew?

But when it came to demon deals, the law was clear. Anyone was free to make their own decision, as long as it wasn’t coerced. Most of the Fortune 500 Company CEOs probably shared their fleshy real estate with demon buddies. I could never understand it, but then again, I didn’t have the desire to run the world like the suckers that made deals with the devil.

“Miss, can we speak with you?” Ian called out.

I looked behind me, but there was no else he could be talking to.

“Miss, I’d like to speak with you,” he called again.

I back pedaled and bumped into one of the centaurs roaming the lobby. Being featured on the evening news was the last thing I needed at this moment in time.

“Um… No, thank you.”

Ian motioned to his cameraman. They sprinted down the stairs and surrounded me.

“Surely you’ve heard about the kidnapping in your building,” Ian explained.

His cameraman fiddled with the giant black piece of equipment as I eyed it suspiciously.

“I just want to ask you a few questions for KYZA news. I’m sure your friends will love seeing you on their TVs tonight.”

“I really don’t want to,” I mumbled.

“Now, don’t tell me a pretty thing like you is camera shy.” Ian gave me a grin that flashed his horse-like teeth. He winked, resting his hand on my upper arm, rubbing it softly with the pad of his thumb. “I’ll even take you out to dinner after our interview, and tell you about some of the gruesome crimes I’ve covered. You’ll be spellbound.”

“I’m sure I would be,” I said, shaking him off my arm. “But I really have to go.”

Ian yelled out again, but I ignored him and made a hasty exit out the lobby door. My apartment was clear up on the fourth floor. Luckily, there was a stairway in the back that’d probably be a lot less crowded than the main lobby.

I pushed through the overgrown brush that nearly blocked the alleyway next to the apartment. Back in its heyday, the landlord had taken the time and effort to plant a row of pine trees in the snippet of yard on this side of the building. Over the decades, more buildings were added around the apartments, until the pine trees were forgotten and left for dead. Surprisingly, they’d flourished in the alleyway. At least, until today.

As I passed the row of pines, I notice

d that several of them had withered away into dried ugly things overnight. A carpet of brown, dead, pine needles covered the ground. If ever there was a sign of big magic, that was it.

Unlike in most of the TV shows and movies that butchered our culture, magic didn’t come free. Our supernatural abilities were fueled by life force. Whenever I had a vision, my life force would be sucked away to fuel the magical qualities of the images flashing in my head – whether I liked it, or not. It left me with a rather bad headache, as if I’d been chugging fireball whiskey the night before.

Life force fueled the magic world. It allowed witches to perform their hexes, demons to manipulate nature, and creatures to perform their own brand of enchantments. That’s why vampires drink blood. They need life force to sustain their immortality.

While most low level creatures are only able to use their own life force to fuel their magic, there are a few powerful and experienced enough to borrow life force from living things around them. Usually that means sucking the life out of nearby plants, just like the pine trees outside my apartment. From the look of that row of trees, someone really powerful did a lot of magic. And I had a feeling I knew who that was.

The back stairwell was empty. I heaved a sigh of relief and marched up the stairs. Now, the only obstacle left was avoiding Mrs. O’Conner in apartment 413. She was a brutal old woman with three giant whiskers on her chin. Often dressed in a fluffy pink bathrobe that should’ve been tossed a decade ago, she liked to glue herself to her peephole and prey on the other residents of the building for her source of entertainment. Unfortunately, she was also one of the few humans in the building, and therefore untouchable by those who wanted to kick her out.

I opened the door to the fourth floor and peered inside. An empty hallway with five wooden doors, each affixed with a number, lay before me. I snuck inside and gently closed the door behind me, tiptoeing on the faded damask carpet toward my door on the other end of the hall. When I reached Mrs. O’Conner’s door, I snuck down below the line of sight of her peep hole. I might’ve looked like an idiot, but freedom was calling my name. The sound of a door opening behind me instantly killed that dream.

“Only guilty people sneak around like that,” Mrs. O’Conner said in a high-pitched voice that could shatter glass.

I turned to face her. Sure enough, she donned a fluffy pink robe and a drab pair of house slippers. Three cats circled her ankles, meowing up at her. A particularly fat tabby named Adler looked at me and hissed. It could probably tell I was more of a dog person. I hated cats and they hated me. It most likely had something to do with my harpy heritage.

“I’m not sneaking, Mrs. O’Conner,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m just trying to get to my apartment. Is that okay with you?”