Page 99 of Medusa, A Love Story (Loves of Olympus 1)

“And grapes, too.” Euryale sat across from her, popping a grape into her mouth.

Medusa looked at the plate and tasted bile in her mouth. “No. But I thank you.”

“It must be part of the curse.” Euryale shook her head. “How else can you have survived so long without a bite of food?”

The moon had come and gone more than once since her sisters had helped her from Galenus’ house. In that time, they’d made little progress towards their destination. She tired easily, her stomach churned, and the stabbing pain in her head forced her to rest for part of every day. Each day she hoped she might grow stronger, hoped they might reach Delphi and ask the oracle for guidance.

But nothing changed.

It was more than that, Medusa knew. She was a coward. She longed to reach her father’s home to escape the devastation that littered Greece. Each village, each farm or homestead they’d come upon had been the same. The Persians had been thorough in their retreat. They had cut down all those in their path, leaving no survivors.

“A heartless tactic,” Stheno had observed at one gruesome discovery.

“They think to remove those who would stand against them upon their next invasion,” Euryale muttered.

The three of them had spent the evening performing the funeral rites for the family, careful to place a coin under the tongues of the eight they laid to rest. It was the children, one still in swaddling, that tore at the remaining shards of Medusa’s heart.

“Would that my…companions and I could look upon the savages that performed such monstrous deeds,” she had whispered. For a brief moment, she would have embraced her curse, to reap vengeance for this family and the others they’d found.

Now the hissing of her serpents only served to irritate her.

She would ignore them, as always, and concentrate on her sisters. In the time she’d spent with them, they’d taken to removing their scarves and shawls. They had no need of them when it was just the three of them. While they did stand two heads taller than any mortal man she had met, their appearance was far less gruesome than their carved masks on the temple. Broad of forehead and long in the chin, their bones were more pronounced and angular. Their eyes were sunken and black, set beneath thick brows set in a permanent furrow. Their thick, pale lips pulled into a downward slope, giving the impression they were constantly displeased or angry.

It was their posturing that made them frightening.

Under such dark and forbidding garments, mortal man had little choice. To feel terror, the need to flee, was a logical response to creatures of such overwhelming presence.

But Medusa had learned much about her sisters. Namely, that they were loyal and proud women. They honored their family dearly – especially, it seemed, their little sister.

Euryale scowled at one of Medusa’s companions, giggling as it slithered away.

“Are you trying to scare them or me?” Medusa asked drily.

“Why else would the Gods have made us so,” Euryale asked, “If not to strike fear upon all that look upon us – your wee beasties included?”

“We are to remind man not to take their fortunes for granted, sister. We are a reminder of the beauty of life and the blessings they have through the mercy of the Gods,” Stheno offered with great patience, as if she’d had to explain this to her sister over and over again.

“By being the most loathsome of creatures to look upon?” Euryale laughed.

Stheno shrugged. “It would seem.”

“The Gods are most peculiar,” the amusement was still evident in Euryale’s voice.

Medusa’s head began to throb. “Indeed.” She rolled onto her back, hearing the tell-tale hiss and slither of her bed partners. It took hours for them to calm and settle down to sleep, filling her ears with their twitches and shifting as they did so. She’d taken to sleeping in some of Stheno’s dark veils. The added darkness and weight seemed to ease the serpents.

The veils helped, but they did not rest for long or stay confined beneath them. And when they woke, she gave up any hope of sleep. So she would rise, with great care, as they did not like to be pinched or pinned beneath her.

They would bite her, as was their habit when irritated.

She sat up slowly, pressing a hand to her forehead. The serpents immediately plucked at the veils, nudging back to free themselves. She ignored them, asking, “Where are we?”

Stheno held the water skin towards her hopefully. “The tip of Attica. The sun sets shortly, if you’d like to go and see?”

Medusa shook her head. “No… I cannot risk it.”

“Have no worries, sister. The Persians found everyone long before we arrived. It seems a shame to stay locked up when this time of day brings you such joy.” Euryale’s attention caught upon one the serpents. It stared fixedly at her until she shook her head, breaking its gaze.

Medusa felt one coiling about her neck. It took every ounce of self restraint not to try to push it from her. Each touch, each hiss or flick of their long, thin tongues ripped at the lining of her stomach. Time had not softened her feelings towards them. She hated them, hated what they could do – what they’d made her.

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