Page 7 of The Conquest of Medusa

As he shook with the last tremors of his climax, Perseus pulled her up and wrapped her in his strong arms. He stroked her hair until the snakes had quieted and went back to their slumber. She knew they felt safe in his embrace to sleep so deeply and so peacefully. Even though his energy still pulsed inside her, she was soon being lulled to quietness as well.

How had he gone from her enemy, she wondered, nestled against his chest, tothis?

4

FOOLS RUSH IN

PERSEUS

Dawn crested over the mountains, pale and sweet gold, then fierce crimson, heralding the day to come. They set out in the morning’s purple haze in the valley, wisps of fog and dew leaving everything glimmering. Perseus breathed deeply of the crisp, fresh air, reluctant to leave behind the cocoon of Medusa’s hut.

The night had been beautiful. No woman had ever made him feel the way she had. In bed or out. Perseus wished she’d believed him when he said he could be satisfied with their lovemaking that way, but he suspected she didn’t. If he got another chance to prove it to her, he would gladly do so.

She instructed her crows to keep watch over her valley and report to her if they saw anything untoward, then they set off. They walked west for about two hours, talking about Medusa’s recollections of events over the years. It was fascinating to hear some of these old stories from her perspective. Since childhood, he’d been told she was a villain, a being so far removed from human or god that she no longer belonged in their world. She should be shunned. She could be killed. Take from her what you wanted, if you could survive the attempt. She was a dare, a challenge, a legend. Now, after mere days with her, she was still a challenge but not in the way they meant. She was smart. She was merciful, kind, sensual. Lonely.

It was also possible he’d been spelled somehow by her magic and was in need of an exorcism to get her out of his head and his body.

“Up ahead,” Medusa said, breaking into his reverie.

Perseus looked up. It was still some distance from their position, but already, he could see the chimneys of a badly dilapidated structure that clung to the side of a cliff. They exchanged glances and trudged ahead.

It wasn’t long before they reached the ramshackle inn. It was much worse up close. Dives like this were always to be avoided if possible but she’d already said there was no other way but through it to get to the docks. And, to his regret, there was nothing he could do to disguise his height and size; both made him a magnet for mean little men with complexes and big men looking for a challenge. Along the journey, he’d discovered that the so-called cloak of invisibility Hermes had given him didn’t disguise shit. He threw a regular cape over his shoulders to conceal his face and his sword.

Medusa wore a long caftan and pants that did a great job covering her green arms and legs, and she pulled up the hood to conceal her white hair. There wasn’t much she could do about her face, but she did pull up a scarf leaving only her eyes uncovered. At least the scarf might protect her nose from the aroma of the unwashed patrons in the overcrowded bar and the old-fish stench wafting up from the wharf below.

As they passed through, Perseus noted the stares leveled at them from all sides. Sure enough, there were the mean little guys slobbering over their pints and gaining liquid courage. The big men were sizing him up. He made eye contact with each one of them, until they looked away. He and Medusa passed through the bar without incident and went outside, where a line of patrons stood pissing and swaying against the back wall. Quickly, they descended the leaning wooden staircase built precariously into the cliffside. She’d been right; either side of the rock face was sheer, no footholds, nothing to hold on to if one had the misfortune to fall. Or were pushed. Such a misfortunate person and all their worries would be obliterated by the sharp rocks waiting below.

“This place is disgusting,” Perseus whispered to Medusa when he reached her side. They were now at the small, filthy wooden kiosk where arrangements for passage were made.

“I know,” she said with a sigh. “I’m just glad—”

From above, the sound of fighting broke out, accompanied by a crash and a roar. Perseus and Medusa looked at each other, then he looked above while she scanned the wharf. She clutched his arm and pointed at a boat that was almost ready for departure. The captain of the small vessel was also looking up in horror as a crewmember hurriedly untied the lines.

“Hey!” Perseus called after the ticket seller, who had fled the kiosk and was running down the dock, ducking as a burning wooden plank fell and almost hit him.

“Forget the ticket, let’s go,” Medusa urged him.

Another roar, mightier than the first, thundered and shook the cliffside. That’s when the talons appeared, ripping the roof off the inn and a good chunk of the building next to it. Then the face loomed against the sky, fearsome, twisted, and furious, the face of a rabid wolf. But one that had wings and a long body ending in a whipping tale.

“What the fuck is that?” Perseus asked when Medusa grabbed him by the arm and started running toward the boat.

“The Wolf of Hell, the Helyx,” she said grimly, then practically pushed him onto the boat. “One of Typhon’s children whose mother was a demon. She’s escaped imprisonment. My crows mentioned word of her being in the area several weeks ago, but they never saw her. I’d hoped it was just a rumor. We’d better go, now.”

The captain, the ticket seller, and two crewmates were in a state of panic while Perseus stared at her. “Leave? I can’t leave. I’m going to fight that thing.”

Perseus strode to the side of the boat, but Medusa clutched his arm to stop him.

“We don’t have much time left to save your girlfriend or her people. Don’t look for extra trouble,” Medusa said, and his jaw dropped.

“Girlfriend? Andromeda’s not my girlfriend, I told you—”

Another roar interrupted Perseus. The beast’s head swiveled from side to side over the exposed innards of the inn. Bright bursts of crimson and orange erupted from the old structure. The stink of the place had already been foul; now it was made worse by the choking soot. The ugly creature was breathing flames onto the crowd below and none could escape. The screaming within intensified, carried aloft on billowing black smoke.

As the sails filled and the boat pulled away from the dock, Perseus’s heart twisted inside him. He had no doubt most of the bar’s patrons were shady, probably thieves, maybe even killers, but they didn’t deserve that type of indiscriminate, dishonorable death. He knew he had to keep Andromeda’s and his mother’s lives his priority, but he couldn’t let this go.

“I’ll be back.” Without waiting for an argument, Perseus dove out of the boat and swam back to shore as Medusa’s angry shout followed him.

Reaching the dock, he pulled himself up by one of the rotted wooden pilings attached to the pier. From there, Perseus observed the scene. The building was smoldering, flames licking upward to the sky. The Wolf or whatever Medusa had called it, was perched atop the cliff, scanning the shore and the sea. He climbed up onto the pier and waved his arms at it before it could zero in on the boat, which had slowed to a stop.

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