Medusa's Dagger: A New Adult Urban Fantasy (Aya Harris Collection Book 1) (3 page)

“What do you think he is, anyway?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

Angel was better at this kind of thing. She knew how to spot the supernatural, although she dated plenty of human men, too.

“Oh, that’s easy. He’s a Child of Moros.” She twirled her turquoise ring around her finger. “I got that whole doom-vibe the moment he walked his sexy glutes in here. Total bad boy, if you know what I mean.”

“Yikes.”

Children of Moros were descended from spirits that led people to their fate. Real big in ancient Greek times. Not exactly cheery stuff.

“No wonder he’s so unlikeable.”

“To each his own,” Angel said, licking her lips.

“He’s all yours. But before you snatch him up, would you mind helping me find Roni?”

I pointed at the empty glass box sitting in the middle of the room. It was the case that’d caught Gideon’s eye as he was pestering me. Not five minutes ago, a large china doll had been perched inside it, her frilly white dress splayed around her chair.

“She’s gone. Again.”

Angel let loose a string of curses that began in Spanish and eventually converted to English.

“That doll is more trouble than she’s worth. I’ll take this side of the museum. You take that one.”

We waded out into the exhibits, sneaking around corners in an attempt to spot her little brown ringlets or porcelain legs. When it came to the nasty of the supernatural, Roni was at the top of the list. Her full name was Veronica, but we liked to call her Roni just to piss her off.

She’d been inhabited by a demon a few years ago, after a naïve couple held a séance in their home to contact their beloved golden retriever from beyond the grave. Little did they know, their dabbling with the devil would gift their four-year-old daughter with a demon-possessed toy.

The possession started out pretty quietly. At first, the doll would move around the room when the family left home. She’d be on the bed one moment and the couch the next. But then, the behavior changed.

Late at night, Roni began to pinch and scratch the little girl, whispering nasty threats in her ears. It wasn’t until the doll’s behavior escalated to full-on levitation, and an obsession with the kitchen knife drawer, was Mr. Jones called in. Without question, he scooped her up and drove her straight to his museum, to be put on display with the rest of his freaky collection.

“Roni, come out, come out, wherever you are,” I sang.

During her six-months residence at the museum, Roni had already escaped five times. But we always caught her and put her back in her case with a new round of enchantments and spells to seal it shut. I wasn’t sure how she kept breaking the lock, but it was getting old.

“Seriously, come out, you little piece of…”

I spotted a snippet of lace near the Mayan masks on the back wall. She’d made it dangerously close to the emergency exit. Those little legs sure could move fast.

“Got you!”

I plucked her off the ground by the back of her dress. Her head turned a hundred and eighty degrees to face me, and she glared through her pair of brown glass eyes.

“Don’t give me that,” I told her. “I’m not afraid of you, and you know it.”

I resisted the urge to smash the doll on the floor, and instead sat her back in her little wooden chair. Destroying her would only release the demon to find a new host. Besides, I liked the idea of a captive audience for the museum.

Turning her head back to the front, I tucked a loose curl back into place and closed the glass case. Glued to the front was a warning to our guests. It was rumored that anyone who made Roni mad would have a horrible accident. The home of her previous owners had gone up in flames the day after Mr. Jones picked her up. So far, I was safe. Although, I wouldn’t put it past the little demon to try.

“Angel, please make sure she doesn’t escape again.” Turning around, I spotted Angel leaning on the front counter and chatting it up with Gideon.

So much for good help.

She waved a hand at me without tearing her eyes from him, clearly intent on flirting.

“What’s with Chucky’s Bride?” Gideon asked when I got closer. He grimaced at Roni in her case.

Angel rested her chin on her hand. “Well, if dolls weren’t bad enough, this one’s inhabited by a nasty little underworld demon. Not only is she super creepy, but she’s got a thing for butcher knives and blood.”

Gideon shivered and tugged at the tie around his neck. While I had to admit he looked great in the simple black three-piece suit, something about the way he moved told me he’d be far more comfortable in a shirt and jeans.

“Keep her locked up, then,” he said, turning to me. “I don’t want to be hunting down a killer doll anytime soon.”

“Yes, sir.” I saluted him with two fingers and shook my head. As if I needed him to tell me how to do my job.

At that moment, a woman entered the museum, spotted us, and made a beeline for the counter. She was around thirty years old and extremely fit. Even from here, I could see the way her white blouse hugged the muscles in her upper arm. Her long brown hair was pulled up into a sleek ponytail, and the only bit of makeup on her face was a hint of mascara. She wore a harsh expression, as if someone had spit in her cereal bowl that morning. I didn’t need to spot the gun and handcuffs strapped to her waist to figure out she was another agent.

“This is my partner, Agent Rita Silva,” Gideon said. He nodded to her in greeting. “This is Angel Rodriguez and Aya Harris.”

Agent Silva’s eyelids narrowed upon my introduction. She pursed her lips and dragged her eyes from the top of my long wavy hair to the bottom of my knock-off designer faux leather boots. From the expression on her face, it was clear she already didn’t like me. That was okay. The feeling was mutual.

“Gideon, can I speak to you over here?” she asked. Her voice was light and feminine. It didn’t sound like something that would come out of her mouth.

He followed her toward the African fertility charms. Agent Silva glanced at the exhibit for only a moment, a disgusted grimace pulling down on the sides of her wide mouth, before turning to her partner. They whispered together, pausing only once to look in my direction. Somehow, I succeeded in not sticking my tongue out at them.

“So, did you get a date set up?” I asked Angel in an attempt to distract myself.

“No,” she said in a deflated tone. “He’s not picking up what I’m throwing down. Either he’s clueless or just not interested.”

“I’d go with clueless.”

It wasn’t often that Angel got turned down. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time that happened.

“Maybe he’s Johnny’s type,” she offered.

I shrugged. Johnny was my roommate. As a public defender at the Arcana county courthouse, he specialized in supernatural cases. That meant two things: he was extremely smart and extremely broke. But, we liked our little apartment with its broken tiles, seventies laminate flooring, and the odd brown stain on the living room carpet. Johnny’s partner, Steven, spent a lot of time at our place. They were the perfect couple – always teasing and giving each other mushy grins. Basically, my relationship idols.

“Speaking of dates…” Angel leaned her elbows on the counter and raised her eyebrows at me. “Are you excited for yours?”

Groaning, I turned away and grabbed the stack of mail I’d dropped there this morning. Angel had set me up with two blind dates this week. They were probably her castoffs from last month.

“No comment?”

I could feel her giving me one of her mother hen smiles, even with my back turned. She was constantly sending men over to me, hoping I’d hit it off with someone. While she didn’t support my idea of eventual monogamy, Angel was determined to make my dreams come true. Even if I didn’t agree with her methods.

“Is there anything else you’d like to add to your statement?” Gideon asked. He and his partner had closed back in on me. I was thankful for the counter space between us.

“Nope. I already told you everything,” I said between tight lips.

If and when I had another vision of a crime going down, I certainly wasn’t going to use my cellphone to report it. If only telephone booths still existed.

“And you’re saying this information came from a vision you had?” Agent Silva asked. She fixed her incredibly dark brown eyes on my face.

“Yes, we’ve been over this already. I’m a harpy.” I pointed my thumb at my chest. “Harpy equals visions of crimes. That’s not exactly old news.”

While harpies weren’t very common, they were infamous for their abilities. And as an agent, Rita Silva should’ve been aware of that. The SI and harpies didn’t exactly get along very well. Harpies had a way of getting in the way of SI justice.

“Did you get a vision of the murder?” Agent Silva asked.

My eyes snapped up to her face. “Murder? What murder?”

She leaned back and stroked a thumb along her mouth. “Interesting. So, you had no idea?”

“Who’s been murdered? Tell me.”

My day was only getting worse. I swore, if anyone even hinted at blaming me for a murder, I’d go all harpy on their arse and fly out of here.

“Mr. Yonas was found dead an hour ago in an abandoned building in south Arcana,” Gideon said. “His arms had been cut up, like someone was bleeding him.”

There was a ringing in my head. Mr. Yonas had seemed like such a sweet guy. And now he was dead. It felt surreal. The idea that I’d never see him again when I picked up my mail in the evenings was slowly sinking in. He’d been taken from my apartment. It could happen to anyone. It could happen to me.

I didn’t understand why anyone would want to bleed an elemental. It didn’t make sense.

“Was it a vampire?” I asked.

While it wasn’t completely unheard of nowadays for a vampire to go rogue and kill, it’d be an incredibly stupid mistake on the part of the vampire. Blood banks were established to prevent this very thing from happening. You could get a pint on practically any corner – just like Starbucks. There was no reason to hunt down live prey anymore. Plus, the SI cracked down hard on creatures that killed humans.

“No, no teeth marks,” Gideon answered, putting an end to that theory.

No creature I’d ever heard of liked to cut and bleed its victims. If a creature had an appetite for humans, it usually ate them whole.

“Was it some kind of sacrifice?”

Agent Silva shook her head. “Maybe, we can’t be sure yet.”

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.