monster haven 06.5 - transmonstrified

by R. L. Naquin

  Transmonstrified

  R.L. Naquin

  Bottle Cap Publishing

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, places, and characters are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any way whatsoever without the written permission of the author, except as brief quotations.

  Edited by Sara E. Lundberg

  Cover design by Karri Klawiter

  Published by Bottle Cap Publishing

  Copyright © 2015 R.L. Naquin

  All rights reserved.

  Additional copyright information is available at the end of this collection.

  Table of Contents

  Introduction

  “Shampoo Girl” — A Monster Haven Short Story

  “Baked Goods”

  “The Button War”

  “Fool’s Gold”

  “Unmatched Cupid” — A Mount Olympus Employment Agency Short Story

  “Hidden Holidays” — A Monster Haven Short Story

  “How Greg’s Chupacabra Became a Small Town Legend and Ended Up Between the Wooden Eye and the Wig Collection at the Caney Valley Historical Society”

  “Snow Kissed”

  “Cast Off”

  “Distressed Denim”

  “Reaper’s Tale” — A Monster Haven Short Story

  “The Dream Eaters”

  “Bargain Basement”

  “Escalating Heaven”

  “Cursed by Beauty”

  “What Zoey Doesn’t Know” — A Monster Haven Short Story

  “Cosmic Lasagna”

  “Undercover Gorgon” — A Mount Olympus Employment Agency Short Story

  “Voices on the Wind”

  “Just Right”

  “Ill-Conceived Magic” — A Monster Haven Short Story

  “Prune Juice Sestina”

  About R.L. Naquin

  Other Works by R.L. Naquin

  Additional Copyrights

  For Dad.

  Thank you for always catching me when I fell.

  Saying “I love you” will never be enough.

  Introduction

  Over the last several years, a lot has happened for me. One minute I was sending out short story submissions to magazines and anthologies, the next, I sold my first novel. Six books and four years later, I have a completed book series, a pile of short stories both old and new, and a million ideas filling my head for new stories I want to tell.

  This collection offers a wide selection of strangeness. Some of the stories are ones you may have read before, but a lot of them will be new even to people who already love my work. (Hi Mom!) It’s a snapshot of where I’ve been, and a peek at where I’m going next.

  Come with me and meet the people in my head. If they start talking to you, too, maybe I can finally get some sleep.

  Want all the latest news, contests, and free stuff? Make sure to sign up for my newsletter. I promise not to send you selfies of me watching TV in a tiara while I eat pickles. I’m really not crazy about pickles.

  —Rachel

  “Shampoo Girl”

  A Monster Haven Short Story

  Kam is one of my favorite characters from the Monster Haven series. This story takes place between book five, Demons in My Driveway, and book six, Phoenix in My Fortune. I thought it would be nice to see what Kam gets up to when she’s off by herself.

  Ghosts. Spirits. Lost souls. Whatever. I called them runners.

  I learned on my first soul chase that barging into a place of business and telling the owners I was there to collect a runaway soul freaked them out. It wasn’t like I’d burst through the door with a proton pack strapped behind me like a Ghostbuster, waving the nozzle thingy around and cracking jokes. I could be subtle.

  Okay, maybe not. I wasn’t so hot at subtle. Subtle was boring. But, seriously. If a spirit were chasing my customers away, I’d want somebody to come get it.

  Modern humans confused me.

  I stood outside the Bella Notte Salon and Spa in the fancy part of Chicago and inspected my ponytail. Should I risk it? I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had my hair done—1986? No. Before that. Sometime in the ‘60s?

  I checked the bracelet covering the magic gems embedded in my wrist, then slid it down my arm and squeezed the soft metal, tightening it to keep the jewels concealed. Only two of the gems were charged. The third was completely black. I’d been using a lot of magic for stupid stuff lately—like doing my hair.

  My friends were always giving me shit about conserving my magic so I could reach a full charge. It would take all three of my gems to open a portal to the djinn world and return home. But sometimes I wanted to feel pretty. Was that so wrong?

  I shrugged and tossed my long, dark hair over my shoulder. Fine. I’d go undercover as a client and let a human cut my hair while I tried to track the missing soul in their shop.

  If they totally screwed up my look, I’d still have two full gems of magic to fix it.

  I may have flung the door open a little hard when I walked in. Sue me. I was excited. I didn’t get to hunt on my own very often, and I never got to do fun undercover stuff. Well, there was that one time when I got to pretend to be a construction worker and wear a hardhat. That was cool. Construction workers were usually pretty hot. Not the foremen, though. Those were all old guys. Not nearly as nice to look at.

  The receptionist looked at me over her rhinestone-covered glasses and scowled. “May I help you?” Her hair was short on one side and longish on the other.

  The place smelled like chemicals trying to disguise themselves as potpourri. I swallowed hard to keep from wrinkling my nose. “I’m here to let you cut my hair.” I gave her an enthusiastic smile.

  Her upper lip quivered as if the smell of the place had finally hit her, too. “Do you have an appointment?”

  I blinked. “Do I need one?”

  No, it wasn’t the smell. That was definitely a sneer she was giving me. “We’re fully booked.” She didn’t even look at her computer.

  I crossed my arms over my chest and stood my ground. “When’s the earliest you can fit me in?”

  She sighed as if I were bothering her. Maybe this had been a bad idea. Maybe I should’ve waited until after hours. Undercover was fun, but breaking in and slinking around in the dark, pretending to be a burglar—that was a kind of undercover, too.

  That way I could take the screws out of the bitch’s chair so she’d land on her snooty ass when she came in the next morning. The thought cheered me up.

  She pressed her bright red lips together and eyed me up and down. “I’m afraid we’re booked solid until next—”

  A shriek from around the corner interrupted her. A second later, a woman in a gorgeous green cashmere sweater and designer jeans raced into the reception area with a black cape flapping in her wake. Her sweater and hair dripped, and her makeup ran down her face. A redhead with a distraught look on her face hurried behind.

  “You really shouldn’t get fabric like that wet,” I said, trying to be helpful. “Your sweater will lose its shape.”

  No one paid any attention to me.

  The customer tore the cape from her neck and threw it on the floor. “I have never been treated so poorly in a salon before.” She turned on the receptionist, speaking through her teeth. “Have the owner call me when he wants to apologize.”

  The receptionist and stylist stood mute. I didn’t think to ask where the customer got her sweater until much later.

  The way the lady threw the door open and stalked out was a thing of beauty. The urge to applaud was nearly ove
rwhelming.

  She was magnificent.

  But I stayed cool. I gave the bitch behind the counter a sweet smile. “Looks like you have an opening after all.”

  Her face was pale. It made her lipstick stand out like a bloody incision. She sighed. “Fine. What’s your name?” She moved to the computer and tapped a few keys.

  “Kam.” I smiled. “With a ‘K’.”

  She sniffed. “Well, Kam-with-a-k, this is your lucky day.” She typed something else, then regarded the redhead holding a dripping, crumpled cape. “Tina, I’ll call Antonio and let him know it happened again. Will you take care of Ms. Kam?” She turned away, dismissing us both, and picked up her phone.

  The redhead gave me an embarrassed smile. “This way, please. May I get you something to drink?”

  I didn’t answer. I was too in awe of everything I saw as we walked to her station. It was all so shiny and wonderful. How had I not come to one of these places before?

  We passed a section of comfy-looking chairs where some women sat with their feet in tiny, foot-sized hot tubs. Others read glossy magazines while someone buffed their toenails and painted them in gorgeous colors.

  In another area, women lay with their eyes closed while someone applied mud to their faces with fat brushes. A third area, furnished in small tables with bright lamps, was populated with chattering ladies getting their hands dipped in warm wax and their fingernails extended into shiny, improbable lengths.

  My friends Zoey and Sara had a lot of explaining to do. They’d never told me how far beauty salons had come in the decades I’d been locked up in a box by my old master.

  I wanted to try it all.

  Tina stopped and gestured for me to have a seat. I plopped into the make-me-pretty-chair, excited beyond anything I’d ever experienced. Hair products of all kinds lined the shelves on the side of her station, and a hair straightener, curling iron, and the shiniest blow dryer I’d ever seen sat at the ready.

  Tina pulled the scrunchy from my ponytail and fluffed my hair with her fingers. “So, what are we getting done today?”

  I lifted my hands, fingers splayed, and locked eyes with her in the mirror. “I have no idea. What can we do?”

  We settled on a cut and style, and she shuffled me out of the magnificent chair over to the line of sinks to wash my hair. She hesitated, flicking her gaze left, right, and overhead.

  I peered at the ceiling with her, but I didn’t see anything. “Are we waiting for something?”

  She shook out one of those black capes I’d seen on the soaked lady. “No. Not at all. We’re fine.” Her movements were jerky and nervous as she Velcroed the cape around me.

  Unlike with the angry lady, Tina put the cape on me with the opening in the back. It looked stupid that way, but I could see how it would be more useful in keeping my clothes dry. Maybe the other lady had started off this way and the opening had shifted around. That was disappointing. I’d really wanted to wear a cape.

  With my hands tucked under the waterproof fabric and my head tilted back in the sink, no one could see me reach under my T-shirt and stroke the soul stone hanging from a chain around my neck. While Tina lathered shampoo in my hair, I examined what I could see of the room. If I could spot the runaway soul while touching the stone, I’d be able to see it from then on, hands free, as long as it was in the room.

  Soul chaser powers weren’t nearly as good as reaper powers, but we used the same stones. There were perks.

  “Is the water temperature okay?” Tina asked.

  “Sure. It feels nice.” I wasn’t paying much attention. A jerky movement in the far corner caught my eye then disappeared.

  “I’m a little out of practice.” She shut the water off and pumped some other product into her hands, then massaged it into my scalp. “We had a trainee in here who did most of the shampooing, but…” She paused, both in speaking and rinsing, then resumed. “But we lost her.”

  Ah. That was what I wanted to hear. “Lost her? Did she get fired?”

  I knew she hadn’t been fired. Behind Tina, the nozzle to the sprayer on another sink lifted over her shoulder, aiming directly at me. I rubbed the soul stone under my shirt, and the outline of a woman appeared. As I watched, the rest of her filled in, revealing a slight frame, a blonde pixie cut, and a serious face.

  Her gaze moved from my hair to my face, and her eyes grew wide. Apparently, she hadn’t expected anyone to be looking at her. She dropped the nozzle, lifted herself from the floor, and disappeared into the ceiling.

  Tina finished up and wrapped my wet hair in a towel. She glanced over her shoulder as she ushered me back to her station. The muscles in her face and shoulders relaxed once I was safely returned to the make-me-pretty chair.

  I’d never understood how humans could get their hair cut so often, knowing they didn’t have magic to fix it if it all went wrong. It all seemed so daring and reckless. I was a mess watching Tina cut long strands of my dark, straight locks in order to give me layers. She promised it would give it movement and lift. As she cut, she chattered, and I guided the conversation to get her to talk about the girl I’d seen.

  “So, the shampoo girl. How’d she lose her job?”

  Tina ran her comb through a section of hair and snipped off about six inches. “She didn’t.” She lowered her voice and waved her comb toward the sinks. “She died. Right over there.”

  I raised my eyebrows in mock surprise. “How do you die in a salon?”

  Tina stopped cutting and gave me a serious look in the mirror. “Choked on her gum. Right in the middle of a shampoo.”

  “Didn’t anybody help her? Somebody could’ve done that Heimlich thing or something. Seriously.” It all seemed highly unlikely to me. And yet, I’d seen the girl myself. Come to think of it, her face did have kind of a blue tinge to it.

  Tina scowled. “I wasn’t here at the time, but I heard everybody ran to help the client, instead. Mrs. Titweiler is high maintenance and rich—most of them are—so when she started screaming about soap in her eyes, she got all the attention. Poor Kelsey was dead before anybody noticed.”

  Great balls of fire. People needed to get their heads out of their asses.

  “So, what was with the lady who ran out of here and gave me her spot?” I knew what her problem had been. Dead Kelsey would have sprayed me, too, if she hadn’t caught me looking at her and freaked out. But I needed to hear it from Tina.

  Tina ran her fingers through my wet hair—what was left of it—then leaned close to me, almost whispering. “Something weird keeps happening. We’re not really supposed to talk about it, but the sprayers in the sink keep dousing people.” She stopped while a stylist walked by with a client, then continued once they were out of earshot. “We’ve had three plumbers in here, and nobody can find anything wrong.”

  She straightened and resumed cutting, adding Cleopatra bangs across my forehead. I would definitely have to use magic to fix this when it was over.

  I kept my voice low. “So what do you think is causing it?”

  She didn’t answer right away, and it took her a full minute before she would look me in the eye. “I think Kelsey is haunting us.”

  As if on cue, someone screamed from the direction of the sinks.

  “There goes another one,” I said. “I guess I got lucky.”

  Tina’s hands shook, and a chunk of hair fell to the floor that I didn’t think she’d planned to cut. “It doesn’t happen every time. Twice in one day is a lot.”

  “How long has it been going on?” My hair was now shorter on one side than the other. When I’d told her to do something artistic, I hadn’t expected this sort of asymmetrical shenanigans. Humans were insane.

  She shrugged. “Maybe a week or so. Kelsey died last month.”

  Yeah. That tracked. Runners usually took a little while to adjust to their new circumstances before they started worrying about why they’d run. They all thought they had unfinished business, and this one was no different. Apparently, leaving some snooty
bitch unrinsed was enough for her to refuse to cross over.

  Dumbest unfinished business I’d ever heard of.

  I didn’t say much while Tina dried my hair, then touched it up with a straightener. My hair was already arrow straight, but she knew her business better than I did. In fact, I kind of liked the cut, once she was done. It was weird, but when had I ever shied away from weird?

  My jeans and T-shirt were all wrong for it, though. I’d need silver go-go boots and a shiny dress. Maybe gold lipstick. No, definitely gold lipstick. My hair was totally rad.

  The lights flickered, making me blink. Overhead, Kelsey flittered past in the direction of the shampoo stations, a look of concentration on her pasty, transparent face.

  “Hold on to your butt,” I said.

  “What?” Tina ripped open the Velcro on my cape and shook it loose of hair.

  “Nothing.” I smiled and touched my bizarre, angularly cut hair. “I love it! It’s so different.”

  Tina opened her mouth to answer, then snapped her jaw shut when someone shrieked from the direction of the sinks. I hopped out of the make-me-pretty chair and ran around the corner in time to see Kelsey drop the spray thingy and disappear through a closed door behind her.

  The soaked woman in the chair sat up and accepted a towel so she could blot her face dry. The stylist next to her shifted from foot to foot, eyes darting around the room while she apologized repeatedly.

  To her credit, the lady in the chair didn’t seem too upset about it.

  Tina stood next to me, watching. “That’s three times today. It’s getting worse.”

  I pointed at the door I’d seen Kelsey float through. “What’s in there?” I crossed my fingers, hoping she’d tell me it was the bathroom so I could get in there without much explanation.

  “Storage closet. Why?”

  My heart sank. Nope. There weren’t any reasons I could come up with for her to let me in the storage closet. But, odds were, Kelsey had chosen that closet as her home base. Stray souls could go anywhere they liked when they made a run for it from their bodies, but once they quit running, they usually chose a grounding spot where they could recharge their energy.