Page 30 of Hallow Hill at Halloween: Part One

I smiled. “I liked Diarmuid from the instant I realized he had the dubious duty of trying to father his younger brother. However, the marriage was a hard sell.”

“That means you weren’t in favor?”

“I was hesitant. I’d seen enough in court to know that humans and magic kind are very different.”

“But the result was to your liking?”

“Indeed, it has been. Diarmuid is everything a mother could want in a son-in-law, meaning he’d do anything, even die, for Evie. He makes her happy. That makes me happy.”

“It’s common knowledge that a princess is expected. How do you feel about becoming a grandparent?”

“Conflicted. On the one hand I feel like I couldn’t possibly be that old. I guess it’s commonplace for grandparents to react that way initially. On the other hand, I can’t wait to meet her.”

Blaes smiled at that.

Mortality would’ve been a mercy to Medusa, but the fate of being an imprisoned daughter of a Gorgon sentenced her to an eternity of psychological torture. The captivity and seclusion were too great a pressure to support sanity.

Gods, like people, are not static entities. They change. For better or worse. Some gather more power, not politically but personally. Although politics is a routine part of divine life in every culture. Some choose to fade away, if not in fact, into obscurity.

Assuming the Greek authority was self-aware enough to understand this, it could be surprising that none anticipated that a minor deity, left in solitude with no preoccupation other than revenge, might morph into something different.

Medusa reached out with her essence to touch, to contact someone. Anyone. At first it was unconscious on her part. Involuntary, you might say. But slowly, gradually over the centuries, with nothing to do but experiment and improve, she found that she could enter the human dream world.

In short, she’d learned to occupy, even entertain, herself by terrorizing people whether waking or sleeping. People who had encountered Medusa in their dreams found it almost impossible to wake until she released them. Some were left with unexplainable, incurable mental disorders. Some died, which was probably a greater mercy. Those who survived without impairment had no memory of seeing her.

This outcome isn’t surprising to anyone who’s experienced the physical effects nightmares can have on the body. Heart racing, sweating, heavy breathing, blood pressure rising, vocalizations – sometimes elevated to screaming. The stress damage done to the body is the same as if the event had occurred in the state we call reality. Someone might wonder about an unexplained scratch or bruise, or sore, achy muscles, but no association would or could be established between such minor mysteries and an immortal terrorist.

One night she accidentally happened upon a phenomenon that changed everything.

The nightmare that was amusing her was being forced to end by a particularly strong-willed soul before she was ready. When she reached out to grasp the view that was folding inward like a closing curtain, her fingers grazed the waking world at the same time her nocturnal victim woke.

She jerked back like she’d been burned and retreated to the confines of her cell to ponder what had transpired. Amidst the constant writhing of vipers and voices that whispered various acts of sweet revenge, she realized she felt something for the first time in a millennium when she’d tasted the delicious sensation of dream walking in a physical body.

Medusa began to pant softly as she contemplated this development. Slowly, her agitation caused the snakes to writhe and strike at each other, hissing and, in her mind at least, whispering possibilities. And she couldn’t wait to experiment.

CHAPTER FIVEDark Spots

After a savory hot toddy at Molly’s, which she’d added to the bar menu just for me, I walked on the east side of the green thinking I would drop in on the Hallows before driving over to John David’s.My vamp friend was set on throwing his biggest event yet. Since he’d become the community’s resident host, he’d set out to earn a Ph.D in party giving. I couldn’t imagine what I’d be able to add and thought Olivia would be a far better choice for menu consultant, but I couldn’t say no. A visit to the estate was always a treat, party or not.

I breezed into The Hallows expecting the warm welcome Maggie always had in store for me. That’s the problem with expectations. Sometimes they go sideways.

“Oh, Rita,” Maggie said brightly. “I’m just getting to know your friend from the colonies.”

Cole was standing next to her with a Cheshire cat smile.

“My friend,” I said dryly.

“Yes,” she said, not picking up on the tone of my voice or my expression either. “I was just telling him about John David’s party and insisting that he come.”

I struggled to control my normally too-expressive face and appear unaffected.

“And, of course, I’d like nothing more.” Cole grinned. Maybe he was trying to taunt me. Maybe it was my imagination. But I trusted my instinct more than Cole’s toothy smile. “By the way,love the pumpkins. Especially that one painted with all the red, blue, and white striping.”

“You mean the Union Jack?” I deadpanned. That pumpkin had been my favorite, but after learning that Cole liked it, the thrill was gone. Just gone.

Cole’s eyes drifted toward the front windows. He whistled low. “Get a load of that car!”

Maggie leaned sideways so she could see around Cole, who’d grown a little wider than the last time I’d seen him.

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