by RJ Blain
“How eloquent.”
“Would it be more polite of me if I provided the sticks? I’m sure I could find a few somewhere.”
“No, that’s be quite all right. I’ll make certain they’re aware you’re not currently entertaining the prospect of joining a hive as someone’s bride.”
“When you pitch them that, do make sure ‘currently’ is not used. I’m not entertaining it, period.”
“I’ll make them aware, but they’ll make offers anyway. The opening bid is typically around five million for a single mating. A permanent arrangement is far more lucrative.”
“Well, at least you gorgons appreciate a woman’s worth. I approve. Still not happening, though. Just because my mother’s adventurous doesn’t mean I am. Ask any one of my former boyfriends. I do not share, period—and I’m not lesbian or bisexual.”
“How did two polyamorous individuals produce a monogamous one?”
I laughed at my father’s weary complaint. “Magic.”
In truth, I lied, but I wasn’t quite ready to tell dear old dad I hated the idea of leaving my future child adrift. No, when I got around to picking a partner, he’d be sticking around for life, and any heir of mine would have a mother, a father, grandparents, and the whole works. My parents would just have to deal with it.
Chapter Seven
Justin waited for us near the door leading to the labyrinth, and his scowl made it clear he wasn’t happy with one of us—or both of us. I could readily believe luring his charge away would put me near the top of his shit list. I liked the thought of consuming his attention enough I smiled.
Then, careful to keep my tone light and chipper, I said, “I stole your body.”
There were so many different ways he could interpret my words, and my father’s sigh confirmed the gorgon knew exactly what I was implying—and threatening.
The list of reasons I wanted Justin for myself kept growing, and his ability to glare at me without wavering made its way onto my list. “Thank you for returning him only slightly damaged this time.”
“He isn’t damaged. He’s dirty. A little dirt isn’t going to hurt him. If it does, I’m going to suggest a refund or a therapist.”
“I’m going to need a therapist,” Justin muttered, soft enough I doubted he meant for me to hear him.
Did a more perfect man exist for me? My target recognized he was doomed, which enthused me more than it should have. “Anyway, you should be more concerned for my health. He almost knocked me off a cliff.”
My father’s bodyguard narrowed his eyes, his attention sliding away from me. “Why?”
My father’s smug smile made it easy for me to believe his genes had contributed to my tendency to be a troublemaker. “Opportunity knocked.”
Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Justin lifted his hand and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Which one of you am I supposed to be protecting again?”
I pointed at my father while he pointed at me.
Not one to allow a perfect opportunity to escape, I redirected my finger, pointing at myself. “I don’t come equipped with a baker’s dozen of venomous snakes, and I can’t petrify people. I also attract mail bombers. If you have to protect me, you need a raise. You should also add a clause to your contract stating you’ll be reimbursed for any bacon purchases.”
“You present a good argument. Sir?”
“She presents a good argument,” my father agreed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I intend on keeping you, Justin.”
“I intend on kidnapping him, taking him home with me, and forcing him to make me bacon for the rest of my life. Since his lifespan—and yours—is probably far longer than mine, you can have him back after I kick the bucket. I’m the jealous type, so I develop urges to stab women when they catch my man’s attention. I also wander off at my whim, and I won’t be nice enough to notify anyone when I’m wandering.” I smiled at Justin. “I recommend begging my father to let you stay with him. A smart man would be begging right now.”
The game had begun, and I waited for Justin to make his move. Would he rise to my challenge or play it cool?
“Princess, should I have the misfortune of being assigned as your bodyguard, I’ll be investing in a leash.”
I would enjoy making him regret that comment. “I don’t actually need a bodyguard. I just need to find a better job, which I’ll be doing as soon as you contain your charge and get him out of my hair. If you wouldn’t mind arranging a rental for me, that’d be fantastic, as I have to get back to my apartment and pay my rent.”
My father coughed, and alarm bells rang in my head. Justin refused to meet my gaze. Whatever my father had done, he’d had help from his bodyguard. Neither spoke.
“What have you done, Mr. Shiny Shoes?”
“I may have permanently relocated you here. It’s a matter of your safety,” my father confessed.
My father would live to regret his decision to screw around with my apartment, and I would need to reevaluate Justin, his bacon-making skills, and his sexiness rating to better prioritize my theft of his person. “What did you do to my apartment?”
“I relocated its contents, which are currently being cleaned.”
Oh, shit. If they’d emptied my apartment, my various stashes of illegal compounds would be found; most weren’t hidden all that well, within easy reach so I’d have them if I needed them. I’d made some efforts to disguise the truly dangerous stuff, but the vials with my sedative were obvious, as were some of my other tools, like my guns.
I owned a lot of guns. Maybe if I used them to distract from my other belongings, I could cover my tracks.
“My guns don’t need to be cleaned,” I hissed through clenched teeth. “I take good care of them, thank you very much.”
“You do,” Justin agreed, lifting his hands in surrender. “Your guns are safe. I looked them over myself, confirmed they were in good working order, and ordered a gun safe on your behalf. There are often children in the house, so all weapons are locked in a safe unless being carried.”
“And my dart gun?” I demanded, planting my hands on my hips.
My father pulled his hand out of his pocket and dismissed my concern with a flippant wave. “In my safe. We’ll be having a talk about that compound you used, young lady. I don’t know where you got it, but you will procure any additional supplies through approved channels. I’m not against self-defense tools, but let’s keep your arsenal legal.”
The only legal items I owned were my handguns, which I never used on a job. When I needed to shoot a serial killer, I acquired a weapon from the black market and melted it down once done, scattering the twisted remains in a junkyard to hide them.
Junkyards made excellent places to hide things; the police often checked them for incriminating evidence, but once the compactors got a hold of the trashed weapons, it was impossible to get anything of use. Even if they found my tools of the trade before they made it to the trash compactor, law enforcement rarely thought to check the fragmented bits I left scattered around rusting cars about to be pancaked and smashed into tiny cubes for recycling.
“Is it legal to milk your mambas for their venom? I bet I could make a kickass dart with your venom.”
“No.” My father scowled. “No, you won’t milk my mambas for venom. Absolutely not. No.”
“I think we should hold proper negotiations about this issue.”
“No.”
“Where else am I going to get black mamba venom?”
“How about from the supplier of your last batch? As those vials I discovered weren’t legal, I disposed of them. Should you acquire more, don’t leave them where I can find them. That said, I’ll acknowledge your excellent choice of supplier. The testing I had done on them revealed it was very potent venom.”
Damn it. I sighed, debating how best to hide where I’d gotten the venom. Money mattered to mail couriers, which offered me a suitable defense. “If you hadn’t been poking your nose where it didn’t belong, you wouldn’t have fo
und it. That venom was expensive.”
“You’re getting free rent. I’m certain that’ll cover your losses. If you get bored and insist on working, arrangements can be made. It’s a twenty-minute drive to Rapid City. I’m sure Justin won’t mind escorting you to work to keep you out of trouble. That said, I’m insisting on a lifetime ban from working in any delivery capacity.”
“I mind,” my father’s bodyguard stated, his tone cold.
If he made his intentions to avoid me much clearer, I’d be forced to chase him to the ends of the Earth to enjoy his expression when he learned he wouldn’t be getting rid of me that easily. Two could play the same game, and I meant to play it far better than him. When I finished with him, he’d be chasing me, and I’d be running to get caught.
Whether he kept me or I made my escape depended on a lot of things, including how far he’d go to prove he’d be my ideal partner. In reality, he had little to prove. His species and involvement with my father in a bodyguard capacity erased most of my concerns.
No, I was the one with a lot to prove, and I’d test the waters with him in the only way I knew how: toying with him.
“Tulip?” my father asked, and I thought I heard concern in his voice.
“I’m busy considering the best way to eviscerate your bodyguard, Mr. Shiny Shoes. Give me a minute.”
“You can’t eviscerate my bodyguard.”
“I thought denying me my request to take him home with me so he can wake me every morning with his bacon was unreasonable. Why ban a good evisceration?”
“I need him alive, as do you, if you want him to make you bacon every morning.”
“So, you’re saying him coming home with me and making me bacon for the rest of my life isn’t actually off the table?”
The moment my father realized I’d cornered him, he spat curses. “My apologies, Justin.”
“With all due respect, sir, you’re an idiot. Please stop talking.”
Yep, I had a lot of work to do. Convincing Justin he wanted to belong to me would be a challenge, one I’d enjoy far more than any murder I’d ever committed. Until then, I’d nettle him and my father. “Yes, Mr. Shiny Shoes. Listen to your bodyguard. He’s right.”
Both men glared at me, and I smiled my triumph over having annoyed them.
True to his word, my father had relocated my property, but he’d been wise enough to bring me my laptop. If he hadn’t, I would’ve begun my revenge immediately rather than lulling him into a false sense of security. A check of the system logs revealed someone had unsuccessfully attempted to infiltrate the system, costing them almost two hours before they’d given up without accessing a thing. I hoped Justin had been the one attempting to hack his way in.
If I challenged him as much as he would challenge me, good things would happen.
Waiting to pursue him would give me the advantage. Until I was ready to make my next move, I’d turn my attention to my real job. I assumed my father’s internet connection was being monitored, so I’d need to take care with how I hunted for my next target. Did South Dakota even have serial killers? A quick look at the state map revealed two larger cities and a variety of smaller towns separated by vast stretches of empty land.
To play to my father’s beliefs I possessed at least some common sense, I began with some research into Rapid City, beginning with crime rates, dangerous parts of town, and everything a wise girl interested in protecting herself would want to know.
I targeted my searches to maximize my chance of stumbling across links referencing the types of people who’d escaped justice and left bodies in their wake.
Rapid City had grown exponentially in the past five years, more than tripling its population. A recent expansion of the Air Force base was partially responsible, with the growth of the weapon and ammunition industry in the area ballooning at an alarming rate. Several new munitions developers had opened up shop, bringing in thousands of new workers, their families, and the supporting tech industry.
The clues pointed to the United States fluffing its military again, although I couldn’t imagine why. After the emergence, most nations kept to themselves, the playing field changed from the influx of magic. Too many nations had powerful talents, people who could change the world with a thought. Once small, weak countries possessed the strength to hold their own in battle, and they knew it, and so did their once stronger foes.
Wars still happened, most of them raging in Africa, but the heavy hitters, including the United States, Russia, and China, had decided to stay home instead of flaunting their strength. If America decided to take the offensive rather than participate in conflicts as a supporter, the world would change, and I doubted it would be for the better.
Rapid City’s rapid growth worried me, and the population boom made it a ripe target for the type of people I hunted. I kept browsing, focusing my attention to the more dangerous neighborhoods, which skirted the booming industrial sector. Since serial killers walked all paths of life, where I worked wouldn’t matter until I got closer to the kill date.
Some were easier to lure out than others; angels of deaths gave me the most trouble. In their twisted way, they believed they were helping people by killing them. Those serial killers either believed they eased suffering or they wanted to remove a drain on society. I hated the latter far more than the former, but both stole lives against the will of their victim.
I’d walked away from an angel of death once. The woman worked in a nursing home, and every last one of her kills happened only when her victim was too far gone to save, withering in a semi-conscious haze, unable to communicate, give their last wishes, or recognize anyone around them, already lost to the world in mind while their body lingered.
She hadn’t done it for her victims, but for those left behind, family and friends weary of waiting for their beloved’s death to come on its own.
Only in her had I seen mercy, love, and respect for the dying.
I watched from afar for any sign of the woman’s mercy turning into something more, but she had, thus far, stayed true, walking the straight and narrow.
I suspected she would change one day, and when she did, I’d be ready for her.
I hated hunting angels of death. They preyed on the old and weak, doing what they believed was right in the worst ways.
In reality, if I wanted to find a serial killer in Rapid City, I’d observe the nursing homes first. From there, I’d search through missing persons databases until I found a trend. If I got lucky, the trend would lead to the same killer, and I’d find the link that chained the victims together.
When I found victims through those databases, I inevitably found their bodies, often dumped together as gruesome trophies for their killer’s satisfaction. My search for justice would one day get me caught and killed, but I would keep hunting the hunters until there was no one left for me to hunt.
There was no other place for me, no other purpose.
As I had from the first time I’d murdered a man, I knew the truth. I was unfit for my mother’s crown and my father’s favor, although neither realized it yet. One day, they would.
Until that day came, I would do what I did best.
If I kept woolgathering, I’d depress myself with my inevitable execution, so after taking a few more minutes isolating the safer neighborhoods in Rapid City, I moved on to step two of my plan to convince my father and my future lycanthrope I was as normal as possible for the daughter of a mermaid and a gorgon.
To screw with my father, I searched for work handling reptiles, particularly snakes, and was unsurprised when I found no openings in the city. To screw with my father’s bodyguard, I looked into businesses with late hours skirting the industrial quarter, including overnight warehouses needing stock managers and grunt labor.
To make myself happy, I also looked for better opportunities in the business sector. If my mother saddled me with Madagascar, I’d use my work experience to help smooth the way. I also made a point of beginning my research on the island nati
on to learn what languages I’d need to speak.
The citizens of conquered island nations appreciated when their new rulers could speak their language. To my delight, I discovered the educated populace spoke French, which would make things easier on me. While rusty, I already knew the basics. Malagasy would challenge me, unless I kidnapped a few natives and forced them to teach me their language.
I definitely wouldn’t mention such a scheme to my mother, as she’d have a handful of candidates on the next plane off island—at gunpoint if necessary.
Not only would I have to manage a nation, I’d have to keep my parents from terrorizing the locals.
A princess’s work was never done, and thanks to the day I’d gone to kill Matthew Henders, my lot in life was even worse than usual. Oh, well.
I’d figure something out. I always did, one way or another.
Chapter Eight
The problem with searching for a new job after having worked as a mail courier for so long involved my resume. Firms wanting a secretary had no interest in grunt labor, and in a rare show of obedience, I avoided delivery jobs. I had the skills needed to do the job; my mother had made me manage resorts for months before permitting me to delegate to one of her minions.
My mother had the best minions, and if I ever decided to rule, I wanted to be just like her if I grew up. Unfortunately for her, I doubted I ever would.
She was a lion disguised as a fish, strong, fierce, and lethal. Compared to her, I was a flying fish, determined to jump from the waves and soar without getting anywhere in a hurry. I packed a punch in the lethality department, and I liked being a serpent, but sometimes, I wish I’d sided with one of my parents, for better or worse.
The safest way to be a freak was to ensure no one believed I was a freak at all, and I did that well.
It just meant I had to work with limited options. Drumming my fingers on the monstrosity of an oak desk my father insisted was mine to use as I pleased, I browsed for work. I’d thought becoming a secretary would be easy. People always talked about how secretaries were a dime a dozen, always in demand, and the grunt workers of the business world.