Page 3 of Petrified

Amand turns over one of the damaged stones, his eyes narrowing at the scorch marks running through it. “He may have been trying to force the petrification through something else. See if he could use the snake without direct contact.”

I start chewing on my bottom lip as I rock back and forth for a second. “That means the wolf may not have been close enough to see what hit him before his body started hardening.” I shove that thought aside and follow the strongest trail toward the back exit, with Rowan moving ahead of me and Amand close enough that his hand keeps brushing mine.

The scent carries across the loading yard before cutting off beside a limestone wall. I stop so fast Amand nearly walks into me, his hand catching my waist while Rowan moves ahead and crouches near the gravel. He drags his fingers through the loose stone, following the last visible tracks until they disappear. “Nothing leaves from here,” he says, looking up at the wall before tipping his head toward the sky. “No drag marks. No sign he pushed off hard enough to fly.”

I scent above us anyway, leaning back slightly when Amand’s palm stays firm against my stomach to keep me from wandering directly into the rock. “Nothing up there either. Flying wouldn’t erase his magic, and neither would shifting.” I chew on the inside of my cheek while staring at the place where the signature simply stops. “He walked right up to this wall and then somehow decided the normal rules of magic no longer applied to him.”

“Could turning to stone change what you’re smelling?” Amand asks. His thumb moves absently against my side while he studies the limestone, and I settle against him for half a second before remembering I’m supposed to be annoyed rather than enjoying myself.

“I don’t know.” Gray creeps over the backs of my hands before I notice my Chameleon magic reacting to the wall. I flex my fingers until my skin comes back, and Amand catches one hand before I can shove it into my pocket. “Mine doesn’t vanish when I blend. Gerald can still track me if he knows what he’s looking for, so unless gargoyle magic works completely differently, there should be something.”

Amand rubs his thumb over my knuckles, watching the last patch of gray disappear. “You’re doing that more.”

“I’m also being irritated more. There may be a connection.” I keep hold of his hand while Medusa approaches, the scarf over her snakes shifting every few seconds. “Please tell me somebody saw your asshole of an ex before he developed the ability to walk through solid rock.”

“His mate didn’t see him.” Medusa stops beside Rowan and looks toward the wall. “He heard scraping outside shortly before the wolf came downstairs, but he never saw who made it. He doesn’t recognize my ex and says they’ve never met.”

I rock back on my heels, still holding Amand’s hand while Rowan rises. “So we have scraping, his scent leading straight here, and absolutely nothing after it.” My empty coffee cup is still sitting in the car, which suddenly feels like a personal betrayal. “How well does he know this place?”

“Better than you’re going to like.” Medusa folds her arms beneath her chest. “He worked in the quarry district for years. Restoration, structural repair, old stonework. If someone wanted a gargoyle who understood what a building was doing before it collapsed on them, they called him.”

Rowan looks past her toward the rows of abandoned buildings and exposed quarry walls. “Then we’re searching his territory.”

“Which sounds much more depressing when you say it like that.” I finally let go of Amand’s hand and rub both palms over my face. “I need coffee before we keep doing this. Preferably somewhere your ex didn’t also secretly own.”

Medusa’s mouth twitches for the first time since we arrived. “There’s a place ten minutes away. He used to take me there, but I’m fairly certain he never bought it.”

The coffee shop is small enough that the four of us barely fit around one table. Rowan sits close enough that his thigh stays pressed against mine while Amand takes the other side, his arm stretched behind my chair and his fingers occasionally brushing the back of my neck. Medusa sits across from us with her snakes uncovered, three of them immediately becoming obsessed with the pastry beside her tea.

I wrap both hands around my coffee and sink a little deeper between my mates. “Six years, right? That’s how long you were with him?”

“Almost.” Medusa tears off a piece of pastry and has to pull it away when one of the snakes lunges for it. “Long enough that I stopped paying attention to most of the gargoyle things he did. He stoned when he slept deeply, when he needed to heal, sometimes when he wanted to be left alone. It wasn’t unusual.”

Amand’s fingers slide beneath my curls, and I tip my head toward the touch before asking, “What did he look like when he did it?”

“Usually like himself carved out of gray stone. Nothing dramatic.” Medusa pauses, her eyes narrowing slightly as she thinks. “There were times I couldn’t find him right away, though. Mostly outside. Once or twice at hotels, and a few times around here.”

I stop leaning into Amand’s hand. “Wait. You knew he’d turned to stone, but you still couldn’t find him?”

“I knew he was nearby.” She pushes another snake away from her plate and takes a sip of tea. “I assumed he was hiding behind something because he thought it was funny to make me look for him. Eventually he’d move or change back, and I never cared enough to ask where he’d been sitting.”

Rowan’s hand settles on my thigh beneath the table, his thumb pressing once against the inside of my leg while he looks at Medusa. “Did you ever notice anything strange about the stone itself?”

“No.” She shakes her head slowly. “But I also wasn’t looking for anything strange. He was my boyfriend, not a case.”

I stare into my coffee for a second, then glance toward the quarry through the window. “The trail at the wolf’s house ended against stone. This one ended against stone too, and now you’re telling me there were times he could stone himself somewhere nearby and you couldn’t immediately find him.” Rowan’s fingers tighten slightly on my thigh as I look back at Medusa. “I don’t know what that means yet, but I’m done assuming the trail disappears because he leaves.”

Chapter 3

LEVIATHAN

The second victim looks worse because the finished product is almost perfect. There are no ugly seams where flesh gives way to stone, no half-finished patches like the animals we found scattered through the quarry warehouse, and nothing suggesting Medusa’s ex struggled to control the magic.

The man is simply gray from the soles of his shoes to the short strands of hair frozen against his forehead, one hand still curled around the handle of a grocery bag while his eyes move slowly beneath the stone.

I crouch in front of him and start chewing on my bottom lip when his gaze catches mine. “Well, that’s fucking awful.” The poor bastard is awake in there, probably terrified and completely incapable of telling us what happened while three bags of groceries sit on the sidewalk beside him like his afternoon only took a mildly inconvenient turn.

Amand lowers himself beside me, his knee pressing against mine while he studies the victim. His eyes move over the stone before settling on my face, and the contact between us immediately turns the steady buzz beneath my skin warmer. I shift closer without thinking, earning the faintest pull at the corner of his mouth before his fingers slide beneath my brown curls and rub the back of my neck.