Serial Killer Princess

by RJ Blain

  “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.

  Chapter Six

  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 reputation, 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.

  “Snakes eat fish,” I reminded him.

  “I wasn’t going to eat her.”

  “Well, I’m definitely grateful for that. I appreciate my birth and all. Also, thanks for not eating my mother.”

  “I’m not going to eat you, either.”

  I shot him a glare. “Do I look concerned?”

  “No, which is rather surprising. Every other mer I’ve met was absolutely convinced I was about to eat them. Rather amusing, really. I’m pretty sure your mother thought I was going to eat her when we’d first met, too.”

  “I don’t need or want to know anything else relating to what you did with my mother. I draw the line at the details. Thank you for donating your genes to my existence. Let’s leave the details of your contribution a mystery.”

  He snickered. “Internet already gave you an idea?”

  I shuddered at the memory, which had included a very lengthy discourse on what happened from beginning to end, including how many times the surrogate, in this case, my mother, ended
up petrified. That was a number dependent on the number of female gorgons involved in the mating spree. “In detail. I think you’ll find I’ve already been sufficiently educated on gorgon mating practices.”

  “Then I don’t have to tell you that there are princes and kings who’d be delighted to have you as their bride.”

  “They can keep dreaming. I’m more of a one-man kind of girl, and I don’t like sharing with other girls.” I actually took extreme offense when so-called boyfriends started getting a wandering eye. I could count the number of boyfriends I’d had on one hand, and I’d ditched them all for being a little too happy to look at the other offerings. “I hope you’re aware the loyalty of a lycanthrope is not a disadvantage in my perspective.”

  “Anything else I should know?”

  “If you give me a handbook on how I should behave for my birthday or for Christmas, I’ll murder you with it. The only reason I haven’t murdered my mother is because the mer expect me to rule the kingdom upon her death. Fortunately for me, I’m fairly certain her lifespan will surpass mine by centuries, so I should never have to rule a kingdom I can’t even visit because I’m not an aquatic. That’s why my mother keeps conquering islands, so I can visit the boundaries of her territory.”

  “Your mother conquered Madagascar.”

  “I have to admit, that does worry me a little. I’m pretty sure Madagascar actually has a substantial population of humans.”

  “Twenty-five million or so of them.”

  I choked on my own spit. “Say what?”

  “Your mother conquered a nation with a population of twenty-five million humans. There’s also a secondary population of approximately five million other sentients on the island. From what I can tell, I think she conquered it because it has some good ocean shorelines suitable for mer spawning. There’s also a great deal of protected land on the island. I haven’t had a chance to do much actual research, as I was busy trying to locate my missing daughter who had disappeared right out from under my nose in a hospital.”

  “Oops.” I giggled. “That was a work of art, wasn’t it?”

  “I’m expecting a full explanation of how you pulled that off.”

  “Keep dreaming.”

  “All right. Ready for your first lesson on petrification?”

  “Not really.”

  My father turned to me, took hold of my chin, and forced me to look him in the eyes. My tongue tingled, then it started to tickle. Then the tickle intensified into a far more nefarious itch. I yowled, opened my mouth, and stuck my fingers inside, scratching in my desperation to make it stop, which didn’t help. Sticking out my tongue, I blew raspberries, which did alleviate the discomfort a little, but not enough for my liking.

  “That is not the typical reaction someone has to petrification,” my father observed, his tone curious. “By now, you shouldn’t be able to say anything.”

  “It itches,” I wailed, giving my tongue another brisk rubbing. It felt like I expected, although I expected it to break out in hives at the rate I was going. To make matters worse, I got a mouthful of dust in my effort to rid myself of the sensation. With tears in my eyes, I tried spitting, but my mouth had dried out so much I couldn’t. “Make it stop.”

  My father chuckled, touched my chin again, and leaned close. After several moments, the itching eased, fading to a tolerable tingling tickle. “How curious. Let’s try that again, but perhaps on your hand this time.”

  I pulled free of his grip and shook my head so hard my hair whipped side to side. “Hell no.”

  “Or perhaps your feet so you can’t run away.”

  My eyes widened. “I’m not a coward.”

  “No, you’re just a fish. I’m a snake.”

  Oh hell no. I stomped my foot. “Who are you calling a fish?”

  “You.”

  “Oh, like you’re much better with those rat snakes on your head,” I snapped.

  “Black mambas,” he hissed. Then he made with the magic again but, instead of targeting my tongue, the tickling itch raced through me from head to toe. The next thing I knew, I was on the floor writhing in my desperation to make the torture stop, snarling curses and threats while my father crouched beside me, watching with interest.

  My father rose to the number one spot on my shit list, and I swore a lifetime of revenge for inflicting so much misery on me for well over an hour. He timed it, fascinated with my reaction to his attempts to petrify me. Instead of turning me to stone, he gave me a case of the itches so bad he had to restrain me to keep me from ripping my skin off with my nails. He kept me pinned with disgusting ease, one foot on my left wrist while he held my right, checking my pulse every now and then while I panted to catch my breath.

  “Your nails turned a lovely opal,” he commented, turning my hand over in his, inspecting my fingers with interest. “While your mother has limited resistance to petrification, you seem to have taken after my side of the family.”

  I sucked in several gasped breaths and asked, “What do you mean?”

  “Petrifying another gorgon is more a battle of wills. The stronger gorgon will win, but the time it takes for petrification to take hold is dependent on the difference in strength. How long the gorgon remains petrified is also a matter of strength and ability. The weaker ones require neutralizer or magic, while the stronger ones will reverse the petrification on their own given time, usually few days. It’s a good way for rival gorgons to settle disputes without death. Consider it a few days in time out for the loser while the victor gloats over their statue. It’s polite to reverse a petrification after a week, however. When I attempted to petrify your tongue, I treated you as I would a regular human. That requires a lot less effort on my part. I’ll have to ask your grandfather to have a try. He has the finesse of his long years backing him.”

  “He’d better not. I’ll feed his snakes to him!” I strained to pull my wrist out of my father’s hand. “Let go.”

  “Are you going to claw your skin off? Your nails are going to do a little bit more damage than you’re used to until the petrification reverses. Wasn’t I nice? I focused on your fingernails. I could’ve done your tongue instead. Are you still itching?”

  “I’m not going to scratch,” I grumbled.

  He released me and shifted his foot away from my arm, and stood. “When your fingernails return to normal, mark the time.”

  Bracing for the worst, I peeked at my hand. Nail polish wasn’t something I indulged in often, although I liked some of the more flamboyant colors. I was no expert in gemstones, but my fingernails had turned a rather pretty blue and purple, and the way the colors melded gave the illusion they burned. “If I notice. Or had something to mark the time with.”

  Reaching into his pocket, my father pulled out my cell phone and held it out. “How about with this? Also, your boss called, and I notified him you were not going to be coming in to work due to medical reasons. Apparently, he seemed to believe unless you were still in the hospital, there was no excuse for you to miss work. We had words.”

  “You got me fired, didn’t you?”

  “I thought you’d prefer quitting over being fired, so I beat him to the chase and informed him you were quitting.”

  Death was definitely too good of a fate for my parents. “Your days are numbered, Mr. Shiny Shoes.”

  Instead of displaying the appropriate amount of fear, my father smiled. “Your mother warned me you’re rather proud.”

  “You’re lucky I was planning to quit anyway.”

  “She didn’t tell me you were sensible, however.”

  “Someone in this family has to be.” I flung my hands in the air, and more dust rained down from my pajamas. “You have met my mother, haven’t you? The mermaid who decided it was a good idea to conquer Madagascar?”

  “Astonishingly, I have met her. In fact, we spent most of the time you were napping discussing how best to keep you contained, as you seem to attract a great deal of trouble.”

  I smirked, a rather sinister ide
a bubbling to the surface. A good girl would have resisted, smothering the impulse. Me? I could get a little bit of revenge against my parents and get a much closer look at Justin Brandywine at the same time. “Mother has been complaining every time I pick up a boyfriend, I end up ditching the cheating bastard before I can produce an heir. That bodyguard of yours is a lycanthrope and he’s young enough. I bet he’d produce a decent heir or three.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  My smile widened into a full-fledged grin. “But he’s a single lycanthrope. Aren’t lycanthropes the ultimate father material? Loyal to death, protective?”

  Narrowing his eyes, my father looked me over. “You’re doing that on purpose. You’re not actually interested in him, are you?”

  Laughing, I got to my feet and dusted myself off, spreading the mess around rather than ridding my clothes of it. “I’m not telling.”

  “It seems I truly did help spawn a devil.”

  “A devil? Don’t you mean the devil? And anyway, I wasn’t actually spawned. And no, I don’t want the details, thank you very much.”

  “The true irony here is that among gorgons, the fastest way to insult someone is to call them a spawn.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  “I was told mer had a spawning season. Is that incorrect?”

  Was I really going to have to give my own father a biology lesson on mer? I shuddered. “Two forms, two ways to reproduce. If you want to know more than that, I recommend the internet—or ask my mother. I’m sure she’d be happy to give you the details. If we could pretend this conversation never happened, that’d be great.”

  “There are several gorgon kings and princes interested in making your acquaintance.”

  “I’m pretty sure we already went over this. Unless they’re coming over to say hi without trying to get me to participate in their little mating rituals, they can go fuck themselves with sticks.”