by RJ Blain
I needed to stop underestimating my father.
While I convinced him to accompany my mother on her adventures, he introduced me to my latest set of keepers, two formidable foes I’d have to be careful around. My grandparents were gorgons, and at their first hiss, my mother bolted for freedom, not even sticking around long enough to say goodbye to me.
Had I been a better daughter, I wouldn’t have laughed so hard over her flight.
My father sighed and called out loud enough for my fleeing mother to hear, “They’re not going to bite or petrify you.”
Snakes ate fish, and no matter how many times my father had likely tried to convince my mother my grandparents wouldn’t eat her, he couldn’t get through to her. Deeper in the house, a door slammed.
Justin sighed, too. “I’ll make certain she doesn’t get lost, sir.”
“Thank you, Justin.”
I swallowed my laughter, keeping still and quiet like a proper princess despite being my father’s daughter. Like him, I wanted to laugh and enjoy Her Royal Majesty’s discomfort.
That left the problem of my grandparents, who fit the little old lady and little old man profiles so well I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do with them. My grandfather was a lot like my father, possessing thirteen black mambas and the ability to walk around without any coverings. My grandmother’s snakes wore tiny little hats with tinier black veils, and her veil obscured all but her mouth.
When she smiled, I considered running for the hills. I’d been bitten by a vampire once, and his fangs had nothing on hers. His hadn’t dripped venom, either. I wasn’t sure what sort of snakes she had, but they were a rosy hue with diamonds decorating their spine.
“It seems our son produced a cute hatchling with that mermaid of his,” my grandfather rasped, and unlike my father, he had a forked tongue. “A pity we didn’t get to meet your mother properly.”
My father smiled. “I’m sure she’ll be back eventually. Hopefully, I can convince her to be a little less skittish around our serpents.”
“My father forgets snakes eat fish, and the only good snake in the mer kingdom is a dead one.” I smiled my best smile. “It’s pleasure to meet you.”
“You don’t seem to have inherited your mother’s fear of snakes.” My grandmother smiled wider, and she licked her fangs. “We’ve been told you’re uninterested in becoming a bride.”
“Gorgons are a polyamorous species. I’m monogamous. It’s likely a genetic mutation. Mer are polyamorous unless they decide otherwise. Of course, Mer are generally inclined to form permanent partnerships as part of the mating season to better care for the hatchlings, but it isn’t guaranteed. Some choose to have hatchlings without biting their partner.”
“I like the sound of that,” my grandmother replied, clicking her teeth together. “I enjoy a good bite.”
“When a mer decides to dedicate to someone, they mutilate them, tearing into their chosen partner until the wounds are bad enough to leave permanent scars. This is done mutually. Should the couple survive, they’re partners for life. Mer talk with their teeth.” I showed my dull, human teeth. “Should a male cheat on his partner, she will use her teeth to bite off something rather important to him.”
My grandfather and father winced while my grandmother laughed.
“Tulip, please,” my father muttered in a strained voice.
“Should a female cheat on the male, her breasts are typically targeted, as it cripples her abilities to reproduce successfully as well. While mer are hatched, they’re breastfed, and mermaids will not feed the child of a disgraced mermaid.” I graced my grandparents with a smile. “It’s important to know, should my father decide to engage in any inappropriate biting of my mother’s person.”
“Inappropriate?” my father demanded.
I smiled my sweetest smile at my father and waited.
Five minutes later, he threw his hands up in disgust and turned, heading in the direction my mother had fled.
“I think we’re going to get along quite well,” my grandmother declared. “Don’t worry none about your little girl, Rufus. We’ll take care of her.”
I wondered if my grandmother meant to sound threatening. In another first for me, I decided to show some mercy on my mother. When faced with obnoxious gorgon, running seemed like the wisest choice.
My father paused in the doorway. “No petrification, no biting, no running her through her paces, and no adoption matches,” he ordered.
The first three made sense, and I narrowed my eyes. “Adoption match?”
“A hive from Wisconsin has eggs up for adoption. Prospective parents fight for the right to adopt the eggs. The hive had consisted of four members, and they were killed in a car accident. The eggs survived. The prospective parents to survive through the worst beating becomes the caretaker of the orphaned eggs. Your grandparents volunteered to oversee the matches.”
My eyes widened. “And how would I participate?”
“You’d get to beat the prospective parents—”
I beamed at my father. “Yes, please. I’d be glad to help beat gorgons to a near-death state.”
“That is obviously the mermaid in you talking,” my father complained.
“It’d be a good educational experience for her if she can resist petrification long enough to fight. We’d have to test to find out how resistant she is.”
“She itches, and when she itches, she gets violent and cranky,” my father warned.
My grandmother showed off her fangs. “Excellent. Run along, Rufus. It’d be a pity if you let your mermaid escape. It was so much work catching one for you.”
“Why do I have the feeling if I leave my daughter with you, she’ll be returned even more corrupt than she already is?”
I arched a brow, planted my hands on my hips, and looked my father over from his hissing serpents to his shiny shoes. “Obviously, I didn’t inherit my shining intellect and common sense from you.”
My grandfather hooted his laughter, and his black mambas reared up and hissed. “You bred us a feisty little fishy, Rufus.”
“I’m regretting I called you now.”
“Hindsight is ever perfect, dear boy. Off you go before your mermaid escapes. Your hatchling is safe with us, never fear.”
“I was a live birth,” I informed my grandparents. “Much to my mother’s eternal anguish, as I did not inherit any aquatic genetics. The lack of aquatic genes makes it much harder to rule her kingdom, so she’s stuck with me. I’m far better at sinking in water than breathing it.”
My grandmother’s eyes narrowed, and she scowled at me. “That’s troublesome. Very well. Our first order of business is to teach you how to swim. No grandchild of mine will be drowning on my watch.”
“I can swim. I just can’t breathe water.”
“You can’t swim well enough,” she informed me. “Do you own a bathing suit?”
Was my father a bastion of sanity in his family? If so, I feared his contribution of genetic material was the probable cause of my tendency to kill people I found particularly heinous. “No.”
“Then that’s our first errand for the day.” My grandmother seized my grandfather by a handful of his black mambas and dragged him across the room. “Come along, little hatchling. We’re going shopping.”
My father sighed. “I’m sorry about this.”
“You will pay for your misguided belief that I require supervision, Mr. Shiny Shoes. Go keep my mother from getting herself into trouble. If you were really sorry, you’d give your bodyguard to me instead of foisting your parents on me, but as I see that isn’t happening, I’ll come up with an appropriate and sufficient revenge for this.”
“I was afraid you’d say something like that.”
“You only have yourself to blame, Mr. Shiny Shoes.” I shrugged, waved my hand in farewell, and followed after my grandparents, curious to discover how a pair of gorgons went shopping without leaving chaos and statues in their wake.
On a scale of one to ten,
I had never been so wrong in my life. I never wanted to witness two gorgons shopping again. They didn’t petrify anyone, but chaos came aplenty. The twenty-minute drive to Rapid City went well enough, until we reached civilization.
Humans didn’t react well to gorgons in a convertible. The first accident wasn’t my grandparents’ fault; a driver was so busy staring at them rather than the road, resulting in a wince worthy fender bender. Whether to prove they could play good humans or attempting to set a good example, my grandparents waited for the police, gave their statements, and wasted an entire hour while I waited, leaning against their car.
The vehicle won them a lot of points with me. The convertible had a back seat, it was comfortable, and pretty enough I considered added car thief to my resume of illegal activities.
The second one was questionably the fault of my grandfather, who treated yellow lights as green lights and didn’t have the common sense to yield to the hybrid-form cat lycanthrope. One smashed truck and a busted fire hydrant later, and the kitty was so mad his fur stood on end. He jumped over vehicles to get a piece of those responsible for the dents in his baby.
While fairly certain gorgons couldn’t catch lycanthropy, the hissing, spitting feline catastrophe shattered my tenuous grip on my patience. I jumped out of my grandparents’ convertible, closed the distance between us, and gave a little demonstration how a delicate flower of a princess could flatten a several hundred-pound man without breaking a sweat.
Ramming my fist into the fanged maw of a pissed off cat wasn’t the brightest move, and I deserved to be bitten. Spitting curses a match for his snarls, I drove my off hand into his gut and snapped, “I’ll skin you for your pelt, you oversized marmot!”
“He’s a clouded leopard, Tulip,” my grandmother announced.
The oversized marmot decided he’d had enough of me, spit out my fist and one of his teeth, and tossed me across the street. I hit the sidewalk hard, rolled, and admired the pretty stars dancing through my vision. Everything I’d ever been told about concussions claimed smacking my head into things wasn’t a good idea, but how could I refuse such a violent invitation?
The lycanthrope was either going to die, get beaten within an inch of his life, or otherwise be subdued. I bared my teeth and hissed, rolled to my hands and knees, and lunged forward on a collision course with my new best enemy.
I hit him at full throttle, and we rolled across the road. “I don’t care what he is!”
“But I thought you wanted a lycanthrope.” My grandmother stepped out of the car and stood over us, her hands on her hips. “Sonny, you mated yet?”
He might’ve had better luck answering without my fist shoved in his mouth. “Grandmother, we’re busy.”
“I see that. Why are you picking a fight with a lycanthrope? You’re going to get infected if you keep that up. Instead of taking you swimsuit shopping, I’ll be taking you to the hospital. Do you like hospitals? We could’ve done a planned visit instead.”
Removing my hand from the leopard’s mouth, I grabbed his jaw and shoved his head back so he wouldn’t bite my grandmother. “He was going to rip your car apart. I couldn’t let such a bad thing happen to such a nice car. You should teach my grandfather how to drive better. Yellow means be careful, and they have a tendency to turn red when you’re partway through the intersection. Add in an impatient cat, and you cause a car accident. Think of your car.”
“It’s best to let angry lycanthropes work out their agitation, Tulip. The car can be fixed. I’m not so sure your hand can be. It looks rather injured. I may not be adept at caring for human infants, but your father is not going to be pleased when I return you damaged. Isn’t mauling how mermaids pick mates?”
“No.” The leopard snarled, and I smacked his muzzle. “Enough, kitty. You’re not tearing up the convertible. They’ll fix your truck. Bad lycanthrope.”
The lycanthrope growled.
“When you can speak English, I’ll let you go.” I thought I was being reasonable. The clouded leopard disagreed, tossing me over his head. I tucked, rolled, and smacked into the pavement on my back. “Or not.”
My grandfather sighed. “Are you quite done being used as a toy by the angry lycanthrope, Tulip? While I’m generally pleased with your willingness to engage with beings substantially larger and far better equipped for a fight than you, your father will be quite angry with us if we permit this to continue.”
“He was going to hurt the car.”
“Instead of hurting the car, he’s done an admirable job of hurting you. As you’ve busted out several of his teeth and he’s shredded your hand, it’s a safe assumption you’re now infected.”
“Immune,” I sang, waving my bloodied hand dismissively. “Aren’t gorgons immune to lycanthropy?”
“Indeed,” my grandfather replied.
“That’s what I thought. Hey, lycanthrope. Don’t touch the car. That car will be mine one day, and so help me, if you scratch it, I will turn you into a rug.”
“Noted,” the lycanthrope said, rising to his feet and settling into a crouch. “And what about my truck?”
“Take me hostage for ten minutes. They’ll either pay you to keep me or pay you to give me back. Use the money to fix your truck. Ideally, you’ll request an appropriate amount, because I’ll take offense if you get greedy.”
The lycanthrope spit blood. “I’ve learned something new today. The human spawn of gorgon are tough for flesh bags.”
Flesh bags? I rolled onto my stomach, got my arms beneath me, and glared. “Really? You call humans flesh bags?”
“You could let me tear the siding off that car. We’d be even, and maybe they’d learn how to drive.”
“Or maybe you’d learn not to run red lights, furface.”
“It was changing to green.”
“Still your fault. I’m trying to be generous here. We can just wait for the cops to show up instead and explain that while my grandfather unwisely drove through a yellow, you ran the red because you were expecting it to change to green.” I smiled, and the lights dancing in my vision annoyed a curse out of me. “Take the faked hostage situation. It can be his punishment for causing a car accident with his irresponsible driving.”
The lycanthrope sat back on his heels and looked me over, licking his bloodied muzzle. “It’s less sporting if it’s a faked one.”
“They’d probably take offense if it were a real one. Realistically, they’d petrify you and smash your statue to dust. Gorgons have a reputation for viciousness when cranky.”
“What do you think you’re doing, Tulip?” my grandfather hissed.
“I’m negotiating a non-violent resolution to the problem you caused, old man. Let me negotiate for a non-violent resolution in peace.”
“You tossed a five-hundred-pound hybrid over your shoulder and punched him in the mouth. I fail to see how this is non-violent,” my grandfather muttered. “I’m sure our friend would’ve limited his damage to superficial repairs.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I see no need to play by your rules. My rules state this is a non-violent resolution.”
My grandfather sighed. “Your rules lack common sense and logic.” He turned his attention to the lycanthrope. “How much would I need to pay you to keep her? I can’t promise she won’t escape, and I’d have to take offense if she wished to leave and you restrained her inappropriately, but I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.”
“I set a ten-minute limit on this arrangement already,” I reminded them. “And I doubt my father would be very happy if you sold me, especially after having just bought me from my mother.”
My grandmother’s serpents hissed and swayed, but their tiny hats and veils did some serious damage to her lethality rating. “That’s true. He’d be quite upset with us, dear. It’s not like he’s bred any replacements yet. We should wait to sell this one until he’s bred another. Although, maybe we should advise him against breeding again. I think we’ve made a mistake.”
I suspected the exposure
to my grandparents and listening to me ruined the lycanthrope’s mood, as he got up, went to his busted truck, and returned shortly with an insurance form. “Why don’t we just exchange information and let the insurance companies handle it?”
My grandmother’s serpents settled, and she made herself comfortable in her car. “That’s a lovely idea. That’ll minimize how long we have to deal with those pesky police officers.”
I’d forgotten about the police officers, and I sighed, staggered to my feet, and wobbled to the convertible. “Self-defense. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it,” I declared, climbing into the back, careful to keep my bleeding hand away from the upholstery. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Clouded Leopard?”
“Of course. We were having a non-violent negotiation regarding the damage to my truck.”
I looked the lycanthrope in the eyes, smiled, and said, “Next time, don’t drive your truck into a fire hydrant.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“And don’t run red lights, even when you think the light is about to change, because let’s face it, I’m probably the only person in this country who doesn’t run the yellows.”
The lycanthrope turned to my grandparents. “Is she always this annoying?”
My grandmother lifted her hands, mimed shaking a magic eight ball, and said, “All signs point to yes.”
“Good to know.”
The lycanthrope looked like he wanted to say something else, but the police arrived, took one look at my bloody hand and the lycanthrope’s missing teeth, and ensured I’d be spending the rest of the day convincing a haughty doctor was immune to lycanthropy.
This time, I hoped I got my lollipop. All things considered, I’d earned it.
Chapter Ten
In the future, I needed to do more research on lycanthropes. Had I done my research properly, I would’ve known even the felines had puppy-like tendencies. The clouded leopard followed me to the hospital and watched me like I was the main dish at a catnip buffet. A stern no and snapping my fingers had gotten him to retreat to the waiting room while I faced off against doctors eager to prove I wasn’t actually immune to the virus. I’d gotten saddled with three of them, as unlike in Minnesota, they took gorgon royalty a bit more seriously.