Medusa's Dagger: A New Adult Urban Fantasy (Aya Harris Collection Book 1) Read online

  MEDUSA’S DAGGER

  Aya Harris Collection

  Book 1

  LACY ANDERSEN

  MEDUSA’S DAGGER

  Copyright 2016 by Lacy Andersen

  All Rights Reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  [email protected]

  Proofed and Formatted by

  The Book Khaleesi

  First Edition

  Sign up for the mailing list

  and read Aya Harris’ sweet and spicy bonus chapter for free!

  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Excerpt from Athena's Jewel

  About the Author

  PROLOGUE

  The dagger glinted in his blood-soaked hand. Time was running out.

  He tossed it in a box and scribbled an address on the top. There was no way he’d be able to get the dagger out of the country himself. Bolivian drug lords didn’t like it when you stole from their private collections of ancient, magical weapons. Already, the drug lord’s pack of demon dogs was hot on his trail. They knew the scent of his blood. He’d have to use up his remaining magic to survive this one.

  “Good luck, Little Bird,” he whispered, dropping the box into a mail chute.

  The sound of otherworldly howls just down the block stopped his heart cold. The dogs were getting closer. If they found him, they’d tear him to pieces. No mercy, no second chances.

  He ran down the nearest alleyway, smearing his blood on the walls to distract the beasts. With any luck, the dagger was already on its way to America. Without it, the monster he’d set loose would devour and destroy countless innocent lives. He couldn’t live with that.

  A low growl behind him made him freeze. Turning around, he came eye to eye with a demon dog. Its bulging muscles, black fleshy face, and razor sharp teeth, were nothing compared to the deadly venom oozing from its mouth. One bite, and he’d be finished.

  He clasped his hand around the pendant hanging from his neck. “Alright, Cujo. Come and get me.”

  The demon dog launched at him, its teeth snapping. Together, they scrambled down the alleyway, leaving a trail of blood in their wake.

  Chapter One

  If my violent visions had clued me in – given me one hint that he’d find me, I would’ve stayed in bed that morning. I would’ve pulled my silky smooth Egyptian cotton sheets up to my ears, turned over, and ignored the alarm. But, life has a funny way of sneaking up on you and pulling your pants down, leaving you stark naked to face the world and your problems.

  At the moment, I thought my biggest problem was our African fertility charms display, and the little wooden statues with giant erections – placed conspicuously at eye level. On my day off last week, my assistant got the brilliant idea to move the display to the front entrance. It would attract the ladies, she’d said in her defense. The display had been bugging me all week. I was determined to rework it into a more family-friendly zone.

  This was the Arcana Museum of Supernatural and Occult, and I was its proud curator. It was located in the downtown area of Arcana, a city in the heart of the U.S. that was enchanted decades ago so that demons and monsters could walk among men unnoticed.

  On any given day, you would spot a giant, a centaur, or even a vampire on the streets of Arcana. That is – if you were a supernatural creature. The enchantment worked so that only fellow creatures could catch glimpses of each other’s true nature. To the humans, we looked normal, and that’s the way we liked it.

  “Alright, enough is enough,” I said to the statues.

  They stared at me with wide and empty eye sockets.

  “You guys have got to go. We don’t need any more complaints in the visitor comment box.”

  Climbing up our rickety old step stool, I picked up the first well-endowed statue and considered my options. I could move the entire display into the rear of the museum. But that would take too much time out of my busy day. Running a supernatural museum was surprisingly time-sucking.

  Second option was to move the penis men to a higher shelf. Maybe the younger kids would miss the phallic effigies high above their heads. And then, just maybe, their parents wouldn’t kill me.

  I settled on option number two, and reached up to the highest shelf, edging the wooded statue onto his new home. Even on the stool, my fingertips barely brushed the shelf. If I didn’t push the exhibits back enough, they’d come crashing down on me. So, I stood up on my tiptoes and tried to push him further on.

  Unfortunately, the step stool had other plans. It cracked beneath my weight and sent me and the erection man flying backwards, both doomed to crack our heads on the tile floor.

  It wasn’t the way I’d choose to go. A small part of me had always thought I’d die an epic death. Tightrope walking the empire state building, swimming with sharks in Australia, or cliff jumping in Wales. Not death by step stool.

  As fate would have it, an arm reached out and caught me before I hit the ground. At the same time, another hand snatched up the statue before it could land and shatter into a million wooden toothpicks.

  I looked up in awe at my rescuer. Before my eyes was an insanely attractive man with hazel eyes and a strong jaw. Short-cropped brown hair and the beginning of a five-o’clock shadow topped off the image. He grinned at me, his teeth white and perfectly straight, as he helped me off the ground.

  “Um… thanks,” I mumbled. Secretly, I cursed myself. Thanks? Was that all I could say to this man with the broad shoulders and yummy lips? No wonder I was desperately single.

  “No problem,” he said, his voice rough.

  I felt myself staring a little too long at the way his hair effortlessly swept back from his forehead. So, I tore my eyes away to look at the statue in his hands instead. He held it out awkwardly, as if it were dirty, and refused to look at the little naked man.

  “Can you take this?” he asked, pushing it toward me.

  “Oh, of course.” I felt my cheeks burn. Snatching the fertility statue from him, I set it haphazardly back on the display, and ran away to hide behind the counter.

  Of all the ways to meet the possible man of my dreams... Somebody should put me out of my misery.

  Peering between my fingers, I watched him loiter around the entrance, pausing at each exhibit. He couldn’t have been older than thirty. Dressed in a dark navy suit and striped tie, he looked like some kind of businessman. Maybe a banker or a lawyer. I liked a man in a suit. Not only did I find it hot, but it usually guaranteed that he didn’t live with
his mother anymore.

  Angel came breezing past the counter at that moment, her brilliant red sheer blouse flowing behind her, distracting me from my stalking.

  “Aya, you’ve got another package from Mr. Boss-man.” She slid the box stamped with fragile in bright red letters down the counter at me, barely glancing up to see if I caught it before it tumbled off the edge. Placing a hand on her designer skinny jeans, she glared at me and wagged her finger. “When are you going to learn to water my babies? Plants need tender loving care. I’m gone for two days and already they’re wilting.”

  She stroked one of the dozens of potted plants she’d littered across the museum’s expansive exhibit area. Angel had a way with greenery. A real green thumb. Whispering and cooing to a miniature rose bush, she grabbed the water can and sprinkled it over the green foliage until satisfied.

  “Good morning to you, too,” I said in a sour tone. “Late again, I see.”

  Angel turned her wrist to look at an imaginary watch and shrugged her shoulders with a grin. She grabbed her Prada bag from the counter, pulled out a brown lipstick, and turned to a giant ornate mirror hanging on the wall.

  The mirror distorted Angel’s image into that of a crooked old woman with shoulder length grey hair and wicked crow’s feet. It’d been enchanted centuries ago by a sorceress, to reflect an aged version of the viewer. Rumor was, she’d had it made and then sent to her vain older sister. They were infamous bitter rivals.

  Most everyone hated the mirror, except for Angel. She was a nymph, and so naturally, she never aged. To the world, she appeared to be a gorgeous twenty-five-year-old Latina woman. Only her friends knew the real truth. At forty-seven, Angel looked great and never got any older.

  “You know you love me,” Angel said, smacking her lips together and flashing me a smile in the mirror.

  “Yeah, yeah.” I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corner of my mouth.

  Angel and I’d been working together at the museum since I came here after college. For three years, she’d kept me from turning into a bore. I don’t know what I would’ve done without her.

  “Let’s see what Mr. Jones sent us today,” I said, peeling the tape off the USPS box. Digging through a pile of foam peanuts, I felt something solid brush against my fingers and pulled it out. It was a dagger, about the length of my hand. Filigree designs on the handle and sheath made the dagger appear centuries old.

  I dug in the box for some kind of note or instructions, but found none. Typical Mr. Jones. His adventures were often too great for him to take the time to give me any kind of notice. As the owner of the museum, he loved to send us new items to display. Sometimes, months would go by before he’d pop back in to check on us.

  “Angel, could you have a look at this dagger later on? See if it has any magical qualities?”

  On top of being an ageless nymph, Angel had studied a bit of witchcraft over the years. Most of her abilities were pretty basic, but they came in handy when I needed an artifact examined.

  “Sure thing, boss,” Angel chirped from the other side of the room.

  No longer distracted by new toys, I watched the man who saved me return to the fertility charms display. With nimble fingers, he plucked the fertility statue from where I’d dropped it, and set it back where it belonged, perfectly aligned with the charms around it. I couldn’t have done it better myself. Suddenly, he turned in my direction, and I ducked down to restack an already perfectly straight pile of The City of Arcana Tourist Spots brochures.

  “Ma’am, I was wondering if you could help me.”

  I looked up from my obsessive stacking into his eyes rimmed with dark brown lashes.

  Without warning, Angel popped up beside me. She had a knack for showing up when the handsome customers came through the door. Leaning forward on the counter, she gave him her best one-hundred-watt smile.

  “Of course we can help you. What can we do?”

  He cleared his throat and blinked, startled by her sudden appearance. His eyes flicked back and forth between us, as if unsure who to address.

  I couldn’t help the sinking feeling in my stomach. Sure, we hadn’t exactly hit it off between my spastic fall and the giant phallus man. But as soon as Angel got in the picture, I was toast.

  It’s not that I felt inferior to her. I mean, I could hold my own – especially in a tight little dress and my favorite pair of black leather boots. But there was something about the way she moved and the way she smiled that put men into overdrive. Maybe it was her nymph heritage.

  “I’m wondering if you could lead me in the right direction.” He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out an ID. Emblazoned on the front were the letters SI. Supernatural Investigations.

  Immediately, I felt a retching sensation in the back of my throat. I never liked SI agents. I had my family to thank for that involuntary bodily reaction, even if I’d never been in trouble with the law myself.

  “I’m looking for Aya Harris,” he continued.

  I squinted at him. So much for being the man of my dreams.

  Angel gave my shoulder a shove. “That’s her.”

  “Ouch.” I rubbed the spot she’d hit.

  It was great to know that I could rely on my friends to identify me to law enforcement. If I was ever in trouble, Angel was now officially at the end of the list of people I’d hide out with.

  “What do you want?” The question came out harsher than I’d intended.

  He frowned and put his ID away. “My name’s Gideon Ward. I’m following up on a tip you left with the SI hotline.”

  Now it was my turn to frown. “That hotline’s supposed to be anonymous. How’d you get my information?”

  “We tracked the number,” he said with a shrug. “Your information was too important not to follow up.”

  I silently cursed myself again. Occasionally, over the years, I’d had visions of crimes. It was the joy of being a harpy. We had killer talons, a gorgeous set of black wings, and brain-splitting visions. I’d usually report the visions on the anonymous SI tip line. It would’ve killed me to just ignore them and do nothing. Up until now, no one had ever tracked me down. I guess no good deed goes unpunished.

  “I told you everything I know. I had a vision. A glimpse, really. All I saw was a man dressed in jeans and a black jacket. He broke down a door and threatened some people. The vision was so fuzzy, I couldn’t even see their faces. Really, that’s all.”

  That wasn’t all, but I wasn’t going to elaborate. At the end of my vision, a single raven’s feather had floated to the ground. It was a cold blast-from-the-past. Just the thought of that image sent shivers down my back. He couldn’t be here. Not in this city. Of all places, I didn’t think he’d dare come to the city bursting with the very monsters he hated.

  Gideon eyed me suspiciously. He pursed his lips and tilted his head to one side.

  “She’s just trying to help.” Angel grabbed my arm and pulled me closer. “Aya’s a harpy. They have visions of violent crimes. Catching bad guys is practically in her blood.”

  She didn’t see the look of fury I sent her. My supernatural abilities were none of his business.

  “A harpy?” Gideon’s brow furrowed. “Aren’t harpies usually in Chicago? What brings you so far from home?”

  The last thing I needed was some SI agent digging into my past, and reminding my family of my existence. I’d managed to be practically invisible for the past six years. Didn’t draw attention to myself. Stayed miles away from Chicago. I’d even let myself think no one was coming after me. That I was safe. But Gideon’s presence reminded me that I’d never be safe.

  “Didn’t like the weather,” I replied. “Too windy. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

  I left him standing at the counter. The front display still needed to be reorganized, and there was a stack of paperwork in my office calling my name.

  “Wait, I have some more questions.” He followed me to the administratio
n hall, pausing only to grimace at a porcelain doll displayed in a glass box in the middle of the lobby. “It’ll only take a minute.”

  A small crowd of people walked through the door at that moment. Angel jumped behind the counter, selling our new guests tickets at seven bucks a pop. Most of the people we got in here were of the ignorant human variety. They couldn’t appreciate the irony of a supernatural museum in the middle of a city that hid supernatural creatures – to them, our exhibits were all fake, like a carnival freak show. My kind didn’t have much of a taste for their own history and lore, even though supernatural creatures have been around for as long as the Earth has existed.

  We crawled out of the primordial soup, along with the organisms that would eventually become our human cousins. For centuries, monsters and creatures didn’t hide behind enchantments or in the dark. They’d proudly walked the Earth. Many of the ancient myths were based on our kind. But after Greek times, we went into hiding. It’s not surprising. Humankind has a nasty little habit of destroying what they don’t understand. It was easier to remain hidden than face impending extinction at human hands.

  I could still feel Gideon’s eyes on the back of my head. It took all my strength to stop, turn, and face him. Maybe if I answered his questions, he’d leave me alone. There’d be no digging into my past. No more questions about Chicago.

  He pulled a notebook out of his suit pants pocket. “A harpy, huh?”

  Glancing up at me, he ran his eyes over my body. I shifted my weight and crossed my arms awkwardly.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be super ugly and half bird?” he asked.

  With a disgusted sigh, I threw my hands into the air. “Really? That’s your question?”

  A tiny voice inside my head rejoiced that he didn’t think I was ugly. I wanted to squash it.

  “Oh…uh, no,” he said, licking his finger and flipping through the pages of his book.

  As he skimmed his notes, I watched him for signs of the glimmer. To catch a glimpse of a supernatural creature’s true form, you’d have to wait for a slight glimmer or disruption in the air. It only lasted a second, but that was usually long enough to figure out if someone was human or not.