Outrunning the Storm by Michele Dutcher	Lockdown by Timothy O. Goyette	The Dreaming Fire by Jeromy Henry	Louisville's Silent Guardians by Michele Dutcher

In Her Eyes

by Michael Bishop

The case should have been straightforward for the police. After all just one look at the stone body of the young male and you knew who or rather what the perpetrator was. A gorgon.

In fact it was not that easy at all. Whilst the recording from a CCTV camera in the corridor showed the victim plus a rather attractive if scantly dressed girl entering the room and about two hours later the girl leaving, that was it. For the rest of the night no one appeared between her departure and the cleaner arriving at dawn.

Moreover, the gorgon was not considerate enough to leave a trail of unfortunates turned to stone. In fact, apart from the victim no one seemed to have seen it.

The girl certainly had not otherwise there would have been two slabs not one. Nor could she be the perpetrator because as if posing for the shot, the couple looked into each other’s eyes then passionately kissed before the victim opened the door.

If the mystery of how the murder had been done was not bad enough, some member of the hotel staff went and tipped off the press. Consequently a pack of them sat there in the lobby baying their demands for every lurid detail. Not at all what the detectives needed.

The case should have been straightforward for the police. No surprise though that they never solved it.

                                                              * * *

It started when Perseus slew Medusa. Ever since that foul deed, it became a rite of passage of males of his lineage to kill one of us. Only when they had done so would they call themselves men.

Fortunately, the family ran to a propensity of girls whilst more than one budding hero wound up a garden ornament. Still, many of us died to feed their masculinity.

We tried changing our form so only our eyes strike down our foes as well as fleeing to far off lands. All to no avail. The Perseides learned to penetrate our disguise and would go to the ends of the world if that was what it took for them to complete their ritual.

Do you know what it is like to have the instinct to fly, to wish to soar through the heavens yet be forever earthbound? Have you ever lived knowing that when the sun rises in the east you may not be alive to see it set in the west?

You do? Well, maybe you understand why my wrath matches that of bold Achilles when he heard that the Trojan had slain fair Patroclus.

                                                               * * *

 Snaring the Perseide was laughably easy. Naturally he was drawn to me; after three thousands years the predator had evolved to detect the prey whatever they might look like. In spite of this because I resembled the other girls sitting there in the bar nursing a drink and studying the guys he disregarded the signals. Well, that is a man for you.

Still, I suppose he had a point. If I were what I am then the room should have been filled with statues and it most definitely was not.

Whatever, he moved for the kill albeit a different type.

Seeing no point making it too easy I played hard to get. But not too hard. The touch of the Olympians may have thinned over the years, but he still had it and so other sets of eyes waited for an opportunity to steal him from me.

On the other hand I too have the same touch in me so soon had him eating out of my hand whilst his blue eyes stared into my dark brown ones, at least when they were not trying to look down my top.

Eventually, I permitted him to whisk me back to his hotel. With no idea where the CCTV cameras might be, a few carefully orchestrated poses in the lobby and corridor seemed to be the best way to establish my alibi.

Once inside the darkened room lust took its course. The Perseide made love like a satyr and I a maenad so a fair few of the neighbours got woken up. Then whilst he lay there sated I reached over and flicked on the table lamp. A single kiss to draw him to my green eyes and it was all over. One moment the scumbag was literally flesh next to flesh, the next hard granite lying on silk.

After quickly dressing I rummage through his clothes for his mobile. I will ring the press later to tip them off, but right now I must leave the hotel before the crap hits the fan.

And it will. Journalists love a titillating story and this tale is about as titillating as they come. Thus you can guarantee that this one will end up on the Web where it will go viral and so every Perseide get the message.

Yes, the message that out there is a gorgon who moves with immunity in the world of men. One who can not be traced by a trail of statues. One who is hunting them just as they hunt her sisters.

That is for the future. For now I adjust my top then pop my contacts back in before I leave the room.

Read more stories by this author

Outrunning the Storm by Michele Dutcher	Stormcastle: And Other Fun Games With Cards And Dice by Jeromy Henry	Alien Fruit by Harris Tobias	The Wizard's House by Jeromy Henry

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