Page 7 of Petrified

Medusa comes to a stop beside a dark smear along the edge of the bench. Her whole expression changes, and one of the snakes beneath her scarf pushes hard enough against the fabric that I notice from several feet away. “That’s blood from mine.”

I stop pacing. “You’re sure?”

“I know my own snakes, Leviathan.” She crouches without touching the stain and follows it toward several shallow cuts scored into the wood. “He cut something from it here, and not long ago.”

Rowan calls from the back of the room before I can answer. “Found something.”

We reach him at almost the same time. A small green-black piece is wedged beside a broken chunk of concrete near the wall, no longer than a few inches, wet along one edge and twitching faintly enough that every instinct I possess tells me it should stay exactly where it is.

“Don’t touch that,” I say, already reaching for something to cover it with.

Rowan touches it.

He bends down and picks the fragment up between two fingers before I finish turning toward him. For a second, I can only stare at the tiny piece of magical snake in his hand and wonder how a man capable of tracking armed supernatural criminals has survived this long.

“I need you to understand that the words don’t touch that were directed specifically at the enormous man currently touching that.” I point at his hand while Amand’s mouth curves beside me. “There wasn’t a riddle involved.”

Rowan looks down at the fragment, then back at me as if he’s considering whether the lecture is worth enduring. He doesn’t get the chance to decide because the tips of his fingers turn gray.

Amand sees it and actually laughs. Rowan drops the fragment onto the floor while I snatch a dirty shop rag off the workbench and throw it over the thing before anybody else decides curiosity is contagious.

“Oh, this is beautiful.” I catch Rowan’s wrist and turn his hand toward the light as stone creeps over his first knuckles. “Do you know how difficult it is for me not to say I told you so when I told you so less than ten seconds ago?”

Amand comes closer, still visibly entertained. “You won’t manage it.”

The stone reaches his palm and my amusement thins immediately.

I straighten his wrist and watch the gray move toward the heel of his hand. “Okay. That can stop now.”

Medusa joins us and studies the spreading petrification without getting close enough to touch him. “It should weaken. That fragment is small.”

I look at her. “Should?”

“I’ve never had someone voluntarily grab a severed piece of one of my snakes.”

“He didn't volunteer. He was overcome by stupidity.” I tug Rowan toward an old bench and push at his shoulder until he sits. “How much can you feel?”

“Nothing in the fingers. Cold in the wrist.”

Amand’s laughter is gone now. He crouches beside Rowan and pushes his sleeve higher before the fabric can stiffen with the rest of him, while I keep hold of Rowan’s good hand and watch the stone crawl past his wrist.

“You know, I was having a very nice lunch before this.” My thumb presses into Rowan’s palm when his fingers close around mine. “I had fries left. An entire half of a burger. Now I’m sitting in a condemned warehouse watching you turn into landscaping because listening is apparently beneath you.”

His mouth twitches, which would be more reassuring if the gray weren’t already climbing his forearm. Amand looks from the stone to Medusa and asks how fast petrification from a fragment should spread, but she only shakes her head.

“I don’t know because this isn’t supposed to happen.” Medusa pulls the scarf from her head, letting the rest of her snakes lift and taste the air while she studies the wrapped piece on the floor. “The fragment is still alive enough to carry my magic, but it’s separated from the larger snake. It shouldn’t have enough power to hold him permanently.”

I tighten my grip on Rowan’s hand. “You keep using words like shouldn’t, and I’m developing a complicated relationship with them.” His fingers squeeze mine once, still warm and strong enough that I’m trying very hard to pretend this is only mildly concerning, but the stone has already crossed his elbow and is crawling higher beneath his sleeve.

Then his leg locks so abruptly that his balance goes with it. Rowan tips sideways off the bench, Amand catching him around the chest while I grab his thigh and help haul him upright before he can hit the concrete. “Okay, no. We were laughing five seconds ago. I liked that version better.” I run my hand down the rigid leg, stopping where warm muscle gives way to stone beneath his pants. “This version can fuck right off.”

“So did I,” Rowan says, shifting what little weight he can onto the leg that still works. His voice stays steady, but the humor has disappeared from his face, which means we have officially crossed from Rowan did something stupid into Rowan knows he did something stupid and might actually be in trouble.

I point at Medusa without taking my other hand off him. “Fix him.”

Her eyebrows rise. “I turn people into stone. I don’t undo it.”

I stare at her long enough that one of the snakes closest to me pulls its head back. “That is a catastrophic design flaw.”