10th Muse: Blade of Medusa. Darren G. Davis
H A P T E R T W O
“W-what are you going to do to me?” the man stammered.
“Wait.”
“W-wait?” the man’s voice cracked. “Wait for what?”
The Muse shushed him.
Some vehicles were approaching.
“ That should be the police,” said the Muse. “I took the lib-
erty of hitting the silent alarm when I came in. Now, I want you
to be a good boy and surrender. Then tell the police all about
what you and your girlfriend do for a living. You can leave the
part about me out.”
“And if I don’t?” the man said defiantly.
“Well then, you shouldn’t write your name on your burgla-
ry tools.”
Two patrol cars rolled up to the jewelry store. When the
officers peered inside, all they saw was a frightened man and
woman tied quite securely to a display case.
Surprisingly the man told them everything.
• 22 •
CHAPTER
3
It was just before sunrise, and as the Muse ran by a garbage
truck she tossed the glass cutter inside. Of course there was
no name written on it, but she figured her bluff was a nice
touch. And it had worked.
Her neck was still a little stiff, but nothing that a good
night’s sleep couldn’t fix. Of course, for her, a good night was
about two or three hours.
She soon arrived home and managed to quietly crawl into
• 23 •
T H O M A S J . M I S U R A C A
her window. She fumbled into some pajamas and finally col-
lapsed onto her bed.
Emma wondered if she had slept at all when her alarm went
off. It was the usual routine — she wanted to continue to sleep,
but the alarm clock insisted otherwise.
Right on schedule, her mother refereed with a knock on the
door. “Get up,” she said. “You’re going to be late for school!”
This was a battle Emma never won.
After somehow getting up and ready for school, she joined
her parents in the kitchen for breakfast.
Unlike most teens, Emma got along with her parents.
Except that they were way too normal. Her father was a
well-respected judge, and her mother a substitute teacher who
did more community work than one would think possible.
They always took an interest in everything Emma did and
encouraged her along the way. Sometimes Emma imagined it
was too good to be true — they had to be channeling TV par-
ents from late night reruns.
“Good morning, pumpkin head,” her mother said cheerful-
ly. “How about an English muffin?”
“Sure,” said Emma as she poured herself some orange juice.
• 24 •
C H A P T E R T H R E E
“So,” her father said from behind his newspaper, “are you
ready for finals?”
“I still have a couple of days to study,” she replied, “but I
think I’m gonna nail them.”
“Good,” her father said. “I only hope you don’t get spring
fever.”
“I’ll take some echinacea to be on the safe side,” she joked.
Her father either didn’t get it, or didn’t think it was funny.
“So what are your plans for this summer?”
“Sleep.”
“For three months?” her mother asked with a laugh.
“I should be caught up by then.”
“And when you’re not sleeping?” Her father raised an eye-
brow.
“Then it’s off to the beach with my teen magazines and
dreams of some hunky actor,” said Emma.
Her father folded his paper. “ That may be a nice weekend
activity, but I think it’s time you spent your weekdays a little
less frivolously.”
You should see how I spend my week nights, she thought.
“What do you mean?” she said.
• 25 •
T H O M A S J . M I S U R A C A
“I think you should take an internship at the courthouse
with me.”
“An internship?” Emma said with a hint of whine. “That’s
like working — for free.”
“ You’re working for the experience,” her father said.
“You’ve said plenty of times you were interested in studying
law in college. Well, imagine how good all those applications
you’ll be filling out next year will look if you can include this
experience on them.”
“It will look like a girl who didn’t have fun on her summer
vacation,” Emma pouted.
“You’ll have time for fun,” her father said. “It’s not like I’ll
be working you forty hours a week.”
“Only because the labor laws won’t let you,” Emma
attempted to joke again.
“I think it’s a great idea,” her mother said. “And we can go
shopping for some new outfits.”
What girl didn’t like shopping? Though Emma was plan-
ning to spend her summer in shorts and old boy band T-shirts.
“ Your friends can come visit you for lunch,” said her father.
“ Think how impressed they’ll be, visiting a friend in such a
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C H A P T E R T H R E E
prestigious position.”
“I don’t think they’re the ones who’ll be jealous,” Emma
mumbled.
“It’s either that, or serving fries at a fast food place. You’re
seventeen. You should be working.”