Unamused Muse (Mt. Olympus Employment Agency: Muse Book 2)

by R. L. Naquin

  Unamused Muse

  R.L. Naquin

  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 Yocla Designs

  Published by Bottle Cap Publishing

  Copyright © 2015 R.L. Naquin

  All rights reserved.

  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

  About R.L. Naquin

  Other Works by R.L. Naquin

  For Mom,

  who made hard choices when I was little, so I would be safe.

  They were out of flowers, so I wrote you a book, instead.

  Chapter 1

  I was thoroughly lost, driving a golf cart in circles along the banks of the River Styx—not my best first day on a new job, but I’d had worse.

  The assignment had been simple: go to the entry gates of the Underworld and hand-deliver the new security key code for the week. Somehow—despite the map, hand-written directions, and careful verbal explanation from Parker, the senior personal assistant to the CEO of the Underworld—I managed to get lost.

  What’s worse, I’d spent so much time trying to find my way around, the battery in my golf cart was already down to half a charge.

  I stopped in the middle of the deserted, one-lane road and checked my map and directions against what I saw around me. “Left at the crossroad, keep the field on my right-hand side until I reach the river Styx, then stay parallel to the bank until I see the big elm tree.”

  I looked up.

  There were no trees anywhere. In fact, I hadn’t seen a single one since I’d arrived in the Underworld. The river was no longer flowing in a placid stream—it was on fire. Sparks and ash drifted by, and everything smelled like lighter fluid.

  An ember landed on my sleeve and went out without making a hole. This didn’t surprise me. Nothing I was wearing but my underwear was clothing I’d brought with me. I’d been issued a work wardrobe when I’d checked in, all in red and black. Apparently, proper office attire wasn’t simply for aesthetic purposes. It was also to keep me from catching fire.

  This was going to be a long six weeks.

  A shadow blocked out the mysterious overhead light I was reading by.

  “You went too far.” The person behind me had a deep, rumbling voice. “The flaming river is called Phlegethon. You’re supposed to be following Styx.”

  I turned and looked up at the man behind me. “Where did you come from? I’m in the middle of nowhere.”

  He took the map from me and pointed at a metal disk on the ground near the road. “Maintenance tunnel. I was working on the water main.” His smile was dazzling. “I’m Max. You’re new, I bet.”

  I nodded and grimaced. “I’m Wynter. First day. How am I doing?”

  “I’ve seen worse. You’ll get it. Don’t worry.” He faced the direction I’d come from. “You need to turn around and follow this road, oh, about half a mile. When you get to the dock, you need to park and get out.” He peered at the dash. “I suggest you plug the cart in while it’s there so you have enough juice to get back.” He flashed another dazzler at me. “You probably missed the dock because the boat was out. Just wait till the next ferry and hop on. You have your ID, right?”

  I nodded and pulled the lanyard from under my blouse. “It’s a terrible picture, so I kind of hid it.”

  “It’s the Underworld. Everybody’s picture is bad.” He held out his ID to prove it. His chiseled features and brilliant smile did not translate in an Underworld photo. He looked blocky, pallid, and his smile was lopsided.

  “Wow. Okay. So it’s on purpose.”

  “Just another petty annoyance added into the system.” He handed me my map. “Anyway. That should get you back on track. Once the ferry comes in, show your ID so you don’t have to pay the toll. The ferryman will tell you where to go from there.”

  I climbed into the golf cart and switched it on. “Awesome. Thanks for your help, Max.”

  He gave me a little salute. “Best of luck, Wynter. See you around.” He stepped off the road, pushed the metal disc aside, and dropped into the hole he’d come from.

  A few minutes later, I stopped at the dock on the banks of the River Styx, plugged in my golf cart, and sat to wait for the boat to arrive. I heard it coming before I could see it. In fact, it sounded more like an aircraft than a boat. When I finally saw it, I understood why.

  I’d expected to see a dark-robed figure rowing across the river, slow, silent, and ominous. Instead, an airboat—the kind they used to get around in the bayou—came rushing toward me at an alarming speed. The boat was packed with people, and riding high above them, steering and controlling the giant, caged engine in the back of the boat, was my friend Hal.

  As relieved as I’d been to have a stranger pop out of a maintenance tunnel and give me directions a half hour earlier, I was even more relieved to have a friend to take me across the River Styx. Not really a situation I’d ever thought I’d find myself in—especially since I wasn’t dead.

  Hal slowed the boat and turned it so his passengers could disembark. Several worried faces glanced at me, sitting in a golf cart, as if I were waiting to play through the next hole on a bright sunny day instead of watching newly dead folks head off to be judged and sorted.

  Once they all left, Hal hopped down from his high perch and stepped onto the dock. “How are you settling in?” He gave me a big squeeze.

  I shrugged. “My clothes are fireproof, I have my own golf cart, and I have a private dorm room all to myself. I guess I can’t complain.”

  He frowned. “And yet, you look like you’re going to anyway.”

  I shook my head. “No, no complaints. I did get lost, though. There’s no signage on the dock, so I ended up at Flaming Philangy Lake or something.”

  “Phlegethon River?” His lips twitched in a suppressed smile.

  “Yeah. That.”

  He led me to the boat and waved me across. “Let’s see how bad your ID photo is.”

  I cringed and held it out for him. “Pretty bad.”

  He laughed. “Did you mean to close one eye and hunch?” He pulled out a small electronic tablet, tapped a few times, then scanned in my ID. “Is this a round trip?”

  “Yes, please. Hopefully, it’ll be quick.”

  He tapped again, then stashed the tablet. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  I blinked. “Isn’t there anybody else coming?” I stepped into the boat and sat on one of the benches in the back.

  “Nope. This is a one way trip for most folks.” He climbed up to his seat a few feet above me. “Hold on tight.” He started the motor and sped away from the dock.

  There was nothing to hold on to but the edge of the bench, but I clung to it as tightly
as I could without cutting off the circulation in my fingers. I strongly suspected Hal was driving like a maniac to tease me. The snatches of laughter I caught beneath the roar of the engine backed up those suspicions.

  When we arrived at the dock on the far side, there was already a line of recently deceased waiting to cross.

  Hal cut the engine and helped me over the side of the boat. “When you’re ready to leave, flash your badge and come to the front of the line. Sometimes the people wrap around like a ride queue on a peak day at Disneyland. These people have been queuing for a couple of hours. You don’t need to wait.”

  “Okay. Thanks. The gates are over there?” I pointed in the direction the back end of the line seemed to be aimed.

  He nodded. “Follow the line upstream. You’ll find the gates. See you in a bit.” He turned toward the crowd. “Please have your tickets ready to be scanned. If you have no ticket, please leave the line immediately and return to the admissions kiosk to purchase one.”

  I watched for a moment while he scanned the tickets of the first few people climbing into the boat. But I was already late. Squaring my shoulders, I made my way past the waiting crowd to the end of the queue until I could see the gates to the Underworld in the distance.

  The gates themselves were enormous—at least three stories tall, made of some sort of black metal, and covered in elaborate swirls and filigrees. The queue to get through was even longer than the one to cross the river.

  Hell, it seemed, was all about standing in line.

  Actually, that wasn’t true. Parker had told me first thing when I started that morning that we never use the H-word. Hell was for bad people of specific religions. The Underworld was for everyone.

  Which was why the queue was so long.

  Off to the left of the gate stood a small outbuilding I assumed was the guardhouse. I knocked, and a frazzled face appeared at a little window in the door.

  “No!”

  I frowned. “No, what?”

  She shook her head. “Never mind. I thought you were going to ask me to open the gate.” Her pink face was covered in freckles, and her blue eyes gazed at me in desperation. “Please, oh, please tell me you’re the new assistant from the head office.”

  “I think so. I have the key code. Is that what you need?”

  Her shoulders dropped in relief, and she blew out huge sigh. “Thank every deity on the Mountain.” She stuck her hand through the hole. “Give it here.”

  I handed her the envelope I’d been given. She signed the attached receipt, ripped off the top copy, and handed it to me. “Stay right there. I may need help.”

  The tiny window slammed shut. Two minutes later, she opened the door and came out. “Okay.” She took a deep breath. “The new code is in, so I can open the gates back up. Unfortunately, we were expecting you two hours ago. Without the code, the gates close and the people back up.”

  I was horrified. “I am so sorry.”

  She patted my arm. “It’s okay. It’s not the first time. But I’m going to need your help in order to get things flowing properly again.” She walked while she talked, then stopped at the gate and stuck her hand out. “I’m Mandy.”

  I shook her hand. “Wynter.”

  “Did you get lost?”

  I nodded. “So lost.”

  “Parker is the worst with directions.” She entered a series of numbers on a keypad on the wall beside the gate. “So, here’s what’s going to happen, Wynter. I’m about to open this gate. See how all those people are standing away from the fence? What you’re not seeing is the guard dogs holding them back.”

  I leaned to the side and saw an enormous, slobbering dog face snarling at the people. I expected if I leaned even farther, I’d see two more heads attached to the one dog. I knew my mythology. “Wait. Dogs, plural?”

  “Yes. There’s one on each side. I’m going to open the gates and let the dogs in first.” She grabbed two chains from the wall next to the keypad and handed them to me. “You attach their leashes and take them for a walk for me. I won’t be able to calm the folks down and get them to come through in an orderly fashion while the dogs are around. Besides, the boys have been at their post for several hours—the last two hours on full alert. So, they need to be walked.”

  She had to be kidding me.

  “You want me to walk the three-headed dogs that guard the gates to the Underworld. Two of them.” I spoke slowly, as if to an idiot. Obviously, I was being punked. My philodendron, Phyllis, was going to love this story.

  The irony of that last thought didn’t escape me.

  I took the chains and inspected them. On one end they had clips to hook to the dogs’ collars. On the other, a loop of padded leather to make it more comfortable in my hand. How thoughtful.

  I opened my mouth to ask a few more questions, but I was too late. The gates swung open, and Mandy gave two earsplitting whistles. Within seconds, a matched pair of enormous dogs, each with three slobbering heads, came loping through the opening, heading straight for her. No. Heading straight for me—because I was the fool holding their leashes.

  I tried to back away, but they were coming at me at a dead run, and each of their steps was equal to about five of mine. Six sloppy tongues, eight gigantic paws, twelve eyes like balls of lightning, and two-hundred and fifty-two pointy teeth the size of my forearm. That was, of course, assuming they had all their adult teeth. For all I knew, they were still puppies and only had one-hundred and sixty-eight teeth in total.

  My last thoughts as they slammed into me and sent me sprawling backward were how weird it was that my month of working in a veterinarian’s office had stuck with me and that I could do math like that so fast in my head when I was about to die.

  I landed hard. First my ass hit the dirt, then I kept going and knocked my head back. I half expected to see little cartoon stars floating around my head.

  “Bosco! Kevin! Get off of her!” Mandy shooed the dogs away and helped me to my feet. “You okay?”

  The dogs stood panting a few feet away, never taking their dozen eyes off the leashes in my hand. Their tails wagged so fast they were a blur.

  I rubbed the back of my head. “I’m okay. The ground is pretty soft here.” I approached the first dog as cautiously as I could, one hand held out for it to sniff from each nose. “Which one is this?” I snapped the leash on the huge collar that spanned one ridiculously big neck below the point where it split into three necks. Dog slobber covered my free hand.

  Mandy patted the dog next to her. “This is Kevin. That’s Bosco.” She waited for me to get thoroughly sniffed and put his leash on him. “So, take them along the riverbank and let them do their thing. Make sure they know you’re in charge. Thanks for your help!” She darted off toward the gate, leaving me on my own.

  To my surprise, the dogs were fairly well behaved. Every time they tried to get too far ahead, I yanked a little on their leashes—before they could yank my arm out of the socket—and they slowed. This may have been because it took a long time for three heads to smell all the smells. Whenever one of the heads found an interesting odor, the other two had to take a turn before the dog would move on.

  And then it happened. First Kevin, then Bosco, paused to do the thing we’d set out for them to do.

  Oh, for the love of all that’s good and holy. With three heads each, these dogs probably ate three times as much as they would with a single head. Plus, the animals were more the size of ponies than the retrievers they resembled. So, right there, the quantity was greater than anything I could have managed to pick up, had Mandy given me one of those plastic bags people carry around in suburbia.

  But that wasn’t the worst of it. My eyes burned. My throat constricted. The dry grass beside the riverbank smoked.

  No plastic bag would have held it anyway.

  Upon completion of this unholy act, Bosco and Kevin scratched the ground proudly with their back feet, then looked up at me with their six doggy smiles.

  “Well, alright then. Goo
d job, I guess. You boys ready to go home?”

  Bosco’s middle head chuffed in agreement, and two of Kevin’s heads gave a short bark. I took that as a positive sign and turned them back the way we’d come. They still had to triple sniff everything on the way, but we moved fairly quickly.

  Mandy stepped out of the guardhouse to greet us. “All done?” She smiled and took the leashes from me. “I really appreciate your help. When the gate shuts like that, people get backed up, and I have to catch up with the lag.”

  I glanced at my newly issued high heels all covered in mud and things I hoped were mud. “It was my fault for being late. Glad I could help.”

  She unclipped the dogs and they took their posts on either side of the gates, this time on the inside. They watched in silence as the recently deceased wandered through.

  “Well, now you know how to get here. It’s all good.” She walked toward the guardhouse, waving at me as she went. “See you next week!”

  I waved back, my shoulders slumping. Oh, hell. I’d have to do it again next week.

  I’d made a lot of mistakes in my life, but getting myself sent to the Underworld was by far the granddaddy of all screw-ups.

  Chapter 2

  I was supposed to be a Muse at the Mt. Olympus Employment Agency. Technically, I still was. But I kind of broke some rules in the Muse department—not entirely my fault—and they sent me to work in the Underworld as punishment.

  The good news was the gig would only last for six weeks, then I could go home. The bad news was I had to live there the whole time. Junior personal assistant to the CEO was more than a nine-to-five position. I would be on call after hours, too. The senior personal assistant, Parker, seemed like a great guy so far—though he gave crappy directions. Kristyn, the woman I was covering for, was on maternity leave, waiting to deliver the baby she was having with Parker.

  Apparently the dating policies in the Underworld weren’t very strict.

  The CEO of Underworld LLC was the big guy himself. My boss was Hades. I truly hoped I could make it six weeks without actually meeting him, but it wasn’t likely. He had to pass my desk to get to his desk.