In a way, I made my own bad luck. Maybe my mother was right. Maybe it was time to hang up the mail courier hat and pick a new method of getting close to my targets. I didn’t always work as a mail courier to gain access to my victims, but I’d done it a few too many times. Next time, I’d aim for a six-month stint as some serial killer’s secretary before getting lured into his basement dungeon, where I’d shift and bite the shit out of him before spending the final hours of his life lecturing him about the errors of his ways.
That would point evidence in my direction, as black mamba venom wasn’t easy to get.
Then again, where would someone like me get black mamba venom? Current belief stated shifters of all stripes came in one variant: mammals. While there were reptilian supernatural, including gorgons, people like me didn’t exist. It had gotten me into and out of trouble, often. Since people couldn’t shift into serpents, law enforcement investigators didn’t consider the cracks and crevices a snake could get into as an actual possibility.
Smaller mammals, including mice, were so rare they were brushed aside as possibilities, too.
I found another staircase leading down, and instead of turning back and trying to find my way up like a sane person, I took the adventurous route. The air chilled, and a musty odor lingered in the air, strong enough to make me sneeze. A thin layer of dust billowed beneath my feet with every step, deepening as I descended. By the time I reached the bottom, several inches of pale dust covered everything.
The rotten ruins of a door hung on one hinge, which was so rusted I expected the whole thing to topple when I touched it. I pressed my palm to the decaying wood and shoved, and the hinge broke away with a creak. The door smacked to the floor, a gray cloud billowing up. Covering my mouth and nose with my sleeve, I backed to the steps and waited for the dust to settle.
Beyond, a soft glow illuminated everything and chased away the shadows. A ledge overlooked crumbling ruins, the empty shells of buildings stretching out into a haze wafting from a river cutting through the skeleton of a town. The steps carved into the wall were lined with statues of gorgons, their serpents reared and ready to strike. Each seemed poised to jump out of the stone at me, although a second, closer look revealed most of the statues were only of the upper chest, shoulders, and head, the rest waiting to be carved. Some even bore chisel marks where the work had been started but abandoned.
What was finished seemed so real I couldn’t help but reach out and trail my fingers across the smooth stone.
A hand touched my shoulder, startling me so much I shoved away from the statue and spun, balling my hand into a fist, ready to break my assailant’s nose to buy myself time to escape. Conventional wisdom suggested avoiding goofing around on staircases, as taking a tumble down the steps could lead to a very early death. Jumping on one without benefit of a railing while fifty feet above the ground was tantamount to suicide.
Instead of plummeting to the stone below, I got yanked as though I were a rag doll. Colliding with a solid, hard chest beat splattering, although I needed to chase down my heart, as I was pretty sure it had galloped away. It amazed me the fright hadn’t made me piss my pants.
“You seem to have difficulties with staircases,” my father, one Mr. Shiny Shoes, muttered.
Lucky me, embarrassing myself in front of the father I hadn’t even formally met yet. I straightened, going through the motions of dusting myself off, well aware it was a futile effort. I’d probably be washing dust and grime out of my hair for weeks. “That was payback for the dart, wasn’t it?”
“When I get payback for the dart, it’ll be something far more elaborate than sneaking up on you. I’m merely an opportunist, and you seemed rather enamored with the carvings. How could I resist?”
Since I would’ve done the exact same thing given half a chance, I acknowledged his victory with a nod. “That’s fair.”
“I certainly thought so. Your mother’s rather annoyed you gave her the slip this morning.”
Maybe I didn’t have a whole lot of experience with having a father, but even I recognized trouble on the horizon. “Mother recruited you to drag me back in chains because you bought me for a dollar, so I’m your responsibility. Also, if you were actually involved in the process of picking my mother as a participant in your evening activities, I question your sanity, although I do rather like existence.”
“I see someone was snooping in my wallet and found her birth certificate.”
I checked his feet, and while layered with dust, he still wore shiny oxfords. “I may call you Mr. Shiny Shoes for the rest of my life.”
“It could be worse, I suppose. I do have a name.”
“I saw while snooping in your wallet. It’s almost as bad as mine.”
“I hadn’t known you’d been born or named until your birth certificate arrived in the mail, so you only have your mother to blame for that.”
“Oh, that was harsh. Didn’t even call you?”
“She preferred taunting me with pictures sent every few months and thorough descriptions of all the trouble you’ve caused her.”
“That sounds like something she would do. Have you considered posting maps of this place in your guest rooms? I might not have gotten lost with a map.”
“Most people would’ve had the common sense to turn back when discovering they’d found a maze of tunnels.”
I lifted my chin. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“For the record, had I been responsible for naming you, you would’ve been named Stephanie.”
Stephanie was so, so much better than Tulip. I sighed. “Is it too late to have my name changed?”
“I sent your mother a letter asking something along those lines. She told me to deal with it, and if I’d cared enough to name you, I should’ve stipulated it in our agreement. Your mother’s truly frightening. For the record, she paid me a dollar to track you down and keep an eye for you rather than sell you into slavery or something nefarious like that. She seemed concerned, and rightfully so, you would escape the hospital again. I’ve also been informed this is the fifth time you’ve been to the hospital due to something exploding on your mail routes.”
“I’m still worth more than a dollar,” I muttered. “Anyway, I am, as of yesterday, never delivering mail for anyone ever again. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll find something safer, like being a secretary. I can’t get into too much trouble being a secretary.”
My father’s black mambas stirred, hissing softly, and regarding me with their small eyes. “I believe your mother’s hoping you’ll begin handling some of your duties as her heir.”
“She conquered Madagascar, so she gets to rule it. When I want to rule an island, I’ll conquer it myself, thank you. Unless she’s conquering America. I’d consider taking over America.”
My father didn’t seem very impressed with my declaration. “Why?”
“High selection of good looking men to choose from, for starters.” That America had a rather high population of serial killers didn’t bother me, either. I really needed to start doing research on my next target—and find a new state to live in for a while. “And no, I’m not allowing either one of you to marry me off or dictate how I spend my evenings. If I want to bang your bodyguard, I will.”
My father stared at me, both brows raised. “Shouldn’t my bodyguard have a say in that?”
“Is he married?”
“Well, no.”
“What’s the problem?”
“He’s a lycanthrope.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Wolf?”
“No, something far more interesting than a wolf.”
“So, he’s a couple of hundred years old then, infected with a disease, and what else?”
“He’s thirty-two, yes, lycanthropy is a disease, and nothing else. I recommend against, as you say, banging my bodyguard.”
I crossed my arms and turned away, regarding the gorgon statues while I mulled over his reply. “Elaborate. I want him for his bacon.”
“You want
Justin for his bacon.”
“I am highly motivated by good bacon.”
I could feel my father’s eyes on me, and if he wasn’t questioning my sanity, I’d be very disappointed. “Lycanthropes of all species pick one partner for life. Should you pick him, you’re stuck with him, permanently. And then you’d be infected with lycanthropy. Then I’d have to explain to my parents why my eldest child and potential heir ran off with my bodyguard.”
“Why would I run off with him? If I’m picking him, I’m not going to hide from anyone. I can take responsibility for my actions. His bacon is that good.”
“If you want bacon, hire a chef. Also, there’s the issue of contracting lycanthropy.”
“Immune,” I sang out, waving my hand dismissively. “Mom genes and Dad genes—those are yours, by the way—equal no lycanthropy for me. Drives the doctors nuts, since they preach ‘what looks like a human, acts like a human, and walks like a human must be a human, and humans contract lycanthropy.’ It’s really annoying. It could just be a fluke, but I’ve been exposed several times without any sign of lycanthropy.”
Shapeshifting prevented the lycanthropy virus from taking hold, but I preferred brushing it off as some weirdo talent. I’d even undergone some rather amusing tests for the CDC while preventing them from realizing I could shift into a glorious black mamba. I’d even signed several wavers to consent to being exposed to lycanthropy. I’d picked a cougar with all three forms as the disease donor, too. Sadly, I didn’t end up becoming a super awesome cat-snake shifter, much to my eternal disappointment.
Black mamba by day, cougar by night. I would’ve been amazing had I contracted lycanthropy.
My father chuckled. “I seem to have created a freak of nature. Interesting.”
“Freak?” I spun to face him, planting my hands on my hips. “Look who’s talking. You have snakes for hair.”
The snakes hissed their displeasure at me.
“I can also turn you to stone if I want, missy.”
Right. I gestured to his pissed off snakes. “Why haven’t I been turned to stone yet, anyway? I thought the whole eye contact thing equaled petrification.”
“Gorgon males with the proper pedigree only petrify people intentionally. I suppose I should take you upstairs and subject you to petrification, as it’s important to note your petrification and reversal times.”
I decided to ignore my father’s interest into turning me into a statue. “And the gorgon girls with the pedigree? What about them?”
“There are no gorgon girls with the appropriate pedigree.”
“Well, that’s pretty sexist.”
“It’s an issue of biology. Of course, some gorgon females are so weak they can’t petrify someone unless they put a lot of effort into it, but the magic that prevents me from petrifying someone unintentionally only shows up in gorgon princes and kings. Of course, should a harem queen have the ability, she likely wouldn’t use it, as her job is to defend the hive along with her sisters. Petrification is our first line of defense.”
“Still pretty sexist.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“That’s what you think, Mr. Shiny Shoes.” I turned my attention back to the town below and pointed at it. “Why’s there a town underground?”
“Before gorgons were exposed to society, towns like this were how we remained hidden. This was the home of my hive for several hundred years. My grandparents built this town when the Europeans first came.”
“Gorgons live for a long time.”
“Not always, no. My grandparents were just over two hundred when they passed away. As I’m certain your mother hasn’t told you, I’m forty-eight.”
At least the math wasn’t hard. “You were seventeen?”
Damn it, I hadn’t meant to shriek the question.
“Just how old do you think your mother is?”
My mouth dropped open, and I blinked. “Huh.”
“You have no idea, do you.”
“Not a clue in hell. I’m pretty sure I’m violating some rule in her stupid little handbook by not knowing.”
“Sixteen.”
“What the hell is wrong with you people? Are you serious?” I wailed, lifted my hands, and yanked on my hair. “I’m the product of teen pregnancy?”
“Arranged teen pregnancy,” my father ruthlessly contributed.
“What sort of moron arranged that night of debauchery? Because seriously? Snakes eat fish. Snakes eat fish. Why would anyone put a gorgon and a mermaid in the same room and not expect a murder?”
“I’m not sure you’re ready for the finer points of that conversation.”
I glowered at my father, my eyes so narrow I could barely make him out through my lashes. “How many other children do you have thanks to my mother joining you and your gorgon ladies?”
“I see you’ve already been told the finer points.”
“Internet. I looked it up. Also, that’s seriously twisted. How many half siblings do I have?”
“None.”
My eyes widened. “None? What do you mean none? I thought the whole agreement was so you could have gorgon children. I was just a happy little surprise who showed up later, rather unexpected.”
“Shortly before you were born, a disease swept through the Midwest. Gorgons, as well as several other species, were hit hard. My hive was almost entirely wiped out. I survived, my parents survived, as well as two other gorgon kings. At the time, I was still a prince. My father passed his rank to me so he could focus on replenishing our hive.” My father wrinkled his nose. “You should be grateful. You’re being spared the indignity of coping with countless sisters for the moment.”
Comprehension hit me, and I pointed at him. “You’re on the market!”
My father closed his eyes, bowed his head, and sighed. “Tulip.”
I laughed long and loud, and the sound echoed over the ruins of the old town. “I should sell you for a dollar to see how you like it.”
“What worries me about this is that I truly believe you would.”
“You figured that out quick.” My stomach chose that moment to growl at me. “So. How do we get out of here? I need to hunt down your bodyguard so he can make me some bacon.”
“You worry me.”
“If I’m just starting to worry you, you haven’t been paying attention.” I headed for the staircase leading to the maze above. If my declaration to steal Justin Brandywine for his bacon-making skills bothered my father, he’d flip out if he found out his little princess was a serial killer of serial killers. When I got around to dropping him some hints, I’d have to ease him into it very carefully.
Until then, I’d be considering claiming Justin Brandywine. Between his looks, his bacon-making skills, and his well-played revenge with the painkillers, he had potential. Add in his lycanthropy, and he had all the markers of an excellent partner in crime, mayhem, and murder.
6
My father taught me two things about the labyrinth beneath his home. First, the stone walls had many secrets, and the clever could find them if they knew where to look. Second, the air itself glowed in the presence of those of the blood, marking me, without shadow of a doubt as his child.
I thought he meant for me to explore the maze and see what I could discover. One day I would, but not until after I found out who had killed my target before I could get to him. If the murderer was a man, perhaps I could lure him into waging a war with Justin Brandywine, and I would favor the winner. Then again, Justin’s bacon was worth conquering an entire continent for.
Cold-blooded murderer or bacon? Which would win? Who the hell was I kidding?
Murderers were a dime a dozen. Justin and his bacon were coming home with me, even if I had to hire him out from beneath my father’s nose. How much would I need to sway the bodyguard’s loyalties to me? When my father seemed content to walk in silence, I thought it through carefully.
Would money even sway a lycanthrope? With my haughty appearance and ice queen reputati
on, he wouldn’t be interested in my personality, not unless he found me getting the jump on his charge attractive. He’d probably find my existence insulting.
Security got so cranky when someone landed a hit on one of their charges.
“Perhaps you’d like to change into clean clothes?” My father plucked at the sleeves of my pajamas, and to my amusement, a tiny cloud of dust rained down from where he touched me.
“Your shoes aren’t so shiny now,” I countered. “It’s not my fault you didn’t include a map of your house and the first way I found happened to go down.”
“You could have turned around.”
“And miss a chance to explore a creepy tunnel system?”
“I should’ve known better than to think you might apply common sense to such a situation.”
“Next time, I’m going to take string with me and tie it to the door.”
My father closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. Excellent. I’d spent less than an hour with him and already tested his patience. If I got a full day with him, he’d be off his rocker before sunset.
“Your mother neglected to inform me we had spawned a devil. I’m also questioning why I haven’t petrified your tongue yet.”
“You can do that? Just petrify my tongue?” My father’s coolness rating skyrocketed. Not only did he wander around without anything covering his snakes or his eyes, he could pick which body parts to petrify? I’d gotten the short end of the gene pool stick. My ability to shift into a black mamba aside, my only real trick was my immunity to lycanthropy, since I wasn’t even really all that human to begin with.
“Yes. Your mother might forgive me if I do it, too.”
“Might? She’d thank you. She probably daydreams about the day I shut up and do what she wants for once in my life.”
“Perhaps it might be best to show you a partial petrification before you deal with the whole thing. Let’s just say your mother panicked quite a bit her first time.” My father sighed and came to a halt.
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