Medusa climbs building

In a flash, I was coming upon a tall building, an office building like many others you could see everywhere in downtown Brockton Bay. With Herakles, I had scaled such a thing with the inevitability and the sheer forward momentum of a runaway train.

With Medusa, I leapt, and my leap carried me ten, twenty, thirty feet at least. I landed softly on the window of the fourth storey like a spider, legs bunched, hands out, fingers splayed so that only the tips touched the surface, and for a moment, as the glass flexed, bent, and then wobbled back into shape, I hung there.

And then I flung myself forward, scaling the side much as I had before, and a moment later, I was kicking off the corner of the roof with all the grace and agility of an Olympic gymnast. The wind was whipping through my long hair, the rain pelted my cheeks, and the wet smell of the sea, as familiar to Medusa as her own hands, filled my nose.

One block away, I landed atop another building with catlike grace, my robe fluttering around me. In the distance, although I couldn’t see him, Leviathan’s presence loomed.