The Gorgon Agenda


 
 
 
 
 THE GORGON AGENDA
 A SPI Files Novel
 
 LISA SHEARIN
 
 Murwood Media, LLC
 
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS
 Chapter 1
 Chapter 2
 Chapter 3
 Chapter 4
 Chapter 5
 Chapter 6
 Chapter 7
 Chapter 8
 Chapter 9
 Chapter 10
 Chapter 11
 Chapter 12
 Chapter 13
 Chapter 14
 Chapter 15
 Chapter 16
 Chapter 17
 Chapter 18
 Chapter 19
 Chapter 20
 Chapter 21
 Chapter 22
 Chapter 23
 Chapter 24
 Chapter 25
 Chapter 26
 Chapter 27
 Chapter 28
 Chapter 29
 Chapter 30
 Chapter 31
 Chapter 32
 Chapter 33
 Chapter 34
 Chapter 35
 Chapter 36
 Chapter 37
 Chapter 38
 About the Author
 Praise for Lisa Shearin
 Copyright
 
 
 1
 Did you ever get the feeling you were being watched?
 I glanced over at my dad. Yes, he was watching me. But not in a bad way.
 It was a statue, a desktop version of my dad.
 Cernunnos. The Master of the Wild Hunt.
 I’m good friends with a dryad, a witch, and a werewolf. My manager is a vampire. My boss is a dragon. And I’m in a serious relationship with a goblin. Now I had something new for the list. My dad is the Master of the Wild Hunt.
 When I’d come back to work after Christmas, the statue had been waiting for me on my desk.
 At SPI (Supernatural Protection and Investigations), it was known as desk flair, mementos of particularly memorable missions. When your coworkers deemed your actions deserving, they’d gift you with desk flair.
 It was from everyone. They’d all chipped in.
 It was about twenty inches tall and looked like it belonged in a museum—or on an ancient altar.
 It was carved from exotic wood. At first I thought it’d been painted, but it was masterfully carved to reveal the grain. Tan where the skin was, blond for the hair, ebony shadings for the armor. All from a single block of wood.
 Kylie O’Hara, our director of Media and Public Relations, had reacted with wide eyes and no words when she’d seen it. If a wooden carving impressed a dryad, it didn’t just look flawless, it was flawless.
 It was as if my dad had been miniaturized and taken up residence on my desk, complete with secretive smile and perpetually amused expression.
 Whenever I was at my desk doing paperwork, I’d steal quick glances to try to catch him winking at me.
 I had maybe a dozen pieces of desk flair. My partner Ian Byrne, aka SPI’s version of 007 meets Rambo, had shelves of the stuff. From action figures out of an assortment of horror and fantasy movies to shell casings from impossibly large guns. More than a few of the monster action figures were missing their heads, or had sharp, pointy objects sticking out of them.
 Fairy tales are fairy fact.
 Magic exists. Monsters are real. Fighting the forces of evil is a full-time job.
 At least there’s hazard pay.
 SPI was founded in 1647 to fight the forces of supernatural evil. We’re headquartered here in New York but have offices and agents worldwide.
 My name is Makenna Fraser. I’m a seer. I can see through any kind of ward, shield, or spell a supernatural criminal can use to disguise itself from the human population. My abilities also apply to cloaks and veils that render their wearers invisible. You can’t apprehend what you can’t see. I do the seeing. Agents like my partner do the apprehending.
 Ian and I had been hit over the heads in the past year with our pasts. Not pasts as in what we’d done, but in who we were.
 We were still human, but the kind that came with significant upgrades.
 Ian was the direct descendant of Lugh Lámhfhada, a king of the Tuatha Dé Danann, a supernatural race considered heroes and deities by the ancient Celtic people. Lugh’s claim to fame was killing his grandfather Balor, the last king of the evil race of sea monsters called the Fomorians. Balor’s death in an ancient battle broke the Fomorians, and the Tuatha Dé drove them into the sea and kept them there for thousands of years with a curse. Recently, the Fomorians had tried to stage a comeback led by a megamage and demigod wannabe named Janus, who’d been stalking Ian for years.
 Now we knew why. Ian was the last of Lugh’s direct line. His death would have released the Fomorians from the curse and their exile. Janus had been the captain of Balor’s personal guard and had been tasked with finding Lugh’s descendant and sacrificing him so the Fomorians could once again emerge from the oceans and walk the earth.
 SPI and our allies had collectively rained on the Fomorians’ return tour, banished Janus, and sent the Fomorians back where they came from.
 And me? I got a special surprise during Christmas vacation with my family. My father hadn’t died before I’d been born, as I’d always been told.
 I was the daughter of Cernunnos, the Master of the Wild Hunt. When my mom had sowed her collegiate wild oats, she hadn’t messed around.
 I was the daughter of one of the supernatural world’s apex predators. My dad, as leader of the Wild Hunt, commanded a raging, unpredictable, and unspeakably ancient force of nature. Dad himself was one of the most powerful supernatural entities in existence.
 And I was his little girl.
 Two months ago, Janus tried to break the curse that kept the Fomorians in exile, this time by becoming a god himself. He’d used me and my mom as bait to lure Cernunnos into a trap—and his plan for taking my father’s power had come entirely too close to succeeding. Dad and I had orchestrated Janus’s final and permanent demise by tag teaming with a couple million really pissed-off souls that Janus had imprisoned.
 I was still coming to grips with what being Cernunnos’s daughter meant in terms of who and what I was. Mostly I was still the me I’d always