Undercover Gorgon: Episode #0 — Becoming (A Mt. Olympus Employment Agency Miniseries)

  Undercover Gorgon

  A Mt. Olympus Employment Agency Miniseries

  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 Yocla Designs

  Published by Bottle Cap Publishing

  Copyright © 2015 R.L. Naquin

  All rights reserved.

  Distributed by Smashwords

  Table of Contents

  “Episode #0 — Becoming”

  Transmonstrified

  About R.L. Naquin

  Other Works by R.L. Naquin

  “Episode #0 — Becoming”

  At 12:01 AM on my twentieth birthday, I lost my humanity.

  Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic, especially since I was never human to begin with. I’d thought I was human. Clearly, I was not.

  I didn’t notice at first. I sat on the foot of my bed, drying my hair with a towel and watching Kathryn Hepburn toss a withering look at Humphrey Bogart as they drifted down the Amazon. I glanced at the clock. One more minute of being a teenager. I tried to think of something immature to do in my final seconds of pre-adulthood.

  I couldn’t think of a damn thing.

  I’d never been a very good teenager anyway. I didn’t drink or smoke, slam doors, sneak out at night, or moon over boys. Twenty wasn’t likely to be much different from any other age. I’d still go to class on Monday, I’d still be working a shitty job at a drug store, and I’d still be living in my old bedroom in my parents’ house.

  At least, that was my thought at midnight. At 12:01, everything changed.

  I gave my hair a last rub, then dropped the towel on the foot of the bed. My wet hair hung to my shoulders in heavy strands. Once it dried, it would lighten to a dishwater, nothing color, which went well with my eye-colored eyes and my pallid skin. Not a looker, as Bogie might have said. I wasn’t ugly, exactly, but I wasn’t noticeable—which was fine with me. I didn’t care if anybody noticed me. Most people pretty much irritated me anyway.

  Shadows moved on the wall in the flickering light of the television. My hair brushed my bare shoulder, and I scratched where it tickled.

  My hair licked my finger.

  I froze and peered at my hand where it hovered over my skin. A thin, emerald snake slid over my knuckles and flicked its tongue. I frowned and glanced at the terrarium across the room.

  “Daphne, how did you get out?” I let the little grass snake weave between my fingers and headed toward the habitat I kept for her. “The lid is still closed. Did you slip out when I fed you?” I lifted the hinged door and tried to place her inside.

  Several things occurred at once. First, I spotted Daphne already tucked in a corner behind an artificial rock. Second, the snake in my hand wouldn’t come loose from my head. And third, several more snakes slithered across my hand.

  Had I been a typical human, I might have lost my shit. But I’d loved snakes since I was a little girl, and I was studying to get a degree in herpetology. I was all about the snakes, reptiles, and amphibians. So, yes, I had a buttload of snakes crawling on me, but my initial reaction was that Daphne had somehow managed to lay a clutch of eggs when I wasn’t looking.

  “Okay, kiddies. You’ve had your fun. Time to get in bed with Mom. My parents will freak if you’re running around the house.” I took careful hold of several at once and gave a gentle tug to disengage them from my person.

  They wouldn’t come lose. In fact, I felt the tug all the way to my scalp.

  With my left hand, I held out a snake, and followed it with my right hand to its origin. My fingers prodded the base. It appeared to be attached to my head. This was, of course, stupid. Snakes couldn’t grow out of my head, even in the weirdest of Internet urban legends. Still, my entire head squirmed with them and, as many heads as I found, I could find no tails.

  My heart raced and my mouth went dry. This was the worst nightmare I’d ever had—way worse than the dream about the rabid squirrel with the eye patch and the tiny hooked paw.

  “Okay. Breathe. Wake up, Patrice. Just a bad dream. Wake up.” I hit the light switch in an effort to get a better look in the mirror by my bedroom door. Pain raced through my head like someone had shot me through both eyes with a Daisy Red Ryder BB gun. I covered them with one hand and slapped at the light switch with the other until I got lucky and flipped the lights off.

  Dream or not, the pain had been real. The snakes attached to my head squirmed and writhed in agitation, as if they, too, had felt the stabbing pain. I threw my bedroom door open and ran out in my cotton nightgown, yelling for my parents.

  I was halfway down the hall when they heard me. Their light flashed on and I spun around, shielding my eyes. “Turn off the light! Turn it off!”

  The light went out and my parents stepped into the hall, the low light of my television giving us enough to see each other. I rose and stared at them, waiting to see if they saw what I thought I’d felt—hundreds of snakes growing from my head.

  I expected either bewilderment at my odd behavior or horror at what they saw. They gave me neither. I certainly hadn’t expect an apology.

  Dad took a step toward me. “Sweetheart, I can explain.”

  Mom gave me a watery-eyed smile. “I am so sorry, honey.”

  I frowned. “Sorry? I have snakes on my head. How is that something you did?”

  Mom glanced at Dad and back at me. “It’s not exactly something I did, but it did come from me.”

  The snakes settled over me, curling around each other and laying still.

  I gave a nervous laugh. “What? You planted snake seeds in my scalp?”

  I was still going with the idea that this was a terrible nightmare. Even worse than the one about the blood-filled water balloon fight with Christopher Walken.

  She shook her head and walked toward me. “It’s a recessive gene. Somewhere in my family, way back, we’re related to gorgons.”

  I snorted. “What are you saying? Medusa is my great-grandmother?”

  “Something like that.” She took my hand. “Come sit down.”

  In a daze, I followed my parents into their room. Dad turned on the bathroom light and closed the door enough to shield my eyes from the light, yet give us enough to see each other.

  A terrible thought occurred to me, and I squeezed my eyes shut. “Don’t look at me! I might turn you to stone if you look me in the eyes.”

  Dad patted me on the arm. “You wouldn’t do that to us. We trust you. Just don’t look straight at us.”

  This was insane. I noted, as if from a far off, detached sort of way, that in the more natural bathroom light, my skin was a sort of translucent, sea-foam green. It was kind of pretty.

  “I don’t understand.” I twisted my arm in the light to see the color better. “Why am I only seeing this now?”

  Mom and Dad glanced at each other again, then Dad looked down at his hands. “We were contacted when your mother was pregnant. The situation was explained that you wouldn’t appear human. They gave us a choice between giving you up to be raised as a gorgon in a foster home for mythological creatures, or raise you ourselves with you having no knowledge of what you really were.”

&
nbsp; I pointed at my head. “But I didn’t look like this.”

  Mom brightened. “The man who originally contacted us sold us Deity Springs Stealth Insurance for you. It disguised you so well, no one would ever know. Including you.”

  I scowled. “You bought me a disguise that was mousy and unattractive? Thanks a lot.” I shook my head and the snakes hissed in objection to the movement. “So, why am I seeing this now? What changed?”

  Dad took a deep breath. “Your insurance lapsed. We can’t legally cover you anymore.”

  ~*~

  The next few days were pretty rough. The light sensitivity was an easy fix. Sunglasses did the trick, and it kept me from turning anyone to stone by mistake. But no hat was big enough to cover all those snakes, and I wasn’t about to do a full-body spray tan every time I left the house.

  So much for my degree in herpetology.

  Dad called the stealth insurance company and got the runaround. Since my parents had let the insurance lapse instead of actually telling me what the hell was going on so I could transfer it to my name, getting the insurance started again was enormously expensive. I didn’t have enough in my account, and neither did Mom and Dad.

  I’d have to save up for months to have the money. The catch to that was I couldn’t go to work anymore, not without the insurance. People prefer to buy hand lotion, mints, and toilet paper from people who don’t have green skin and a head full of snakes. I had no choice. The life I’d been living was over. I’d have to go to wherever non-human folks lived and start over.

  Oddly enough, I wasn’t too upset by that. Sure, I’d miss my parents. I couldn’t think of too many other things I would miss, though. And this might sound crazy, but once I got a good look at myself in the mirror, I was thrilled. Seriously. For the first time in my life, I was hot. Maybe not the kind of hot that would get a guy’s attention or make other women jealous, but that never mattered to me. I liked what I saw. The skin color. The snakes. The curve of my cheek and the fullness of my lips.

  I was finally comfortable in my own skin—proud, even. Ironic that I couldn’t go out in public like that.

  So, when Garmond Schumacher, the six-foot tall minotaur, showed up at my front door in a snazzy business suit, I was ready to leave with him before he’d finished his spiel.

  The bull-headed man sat on my sofa and cleared his throat. “Temporary housing will be provided for you, and you’ll meet with a career consultant to find you a good match.” He braced his hands against his knees and gave me an earnest look with his large cow eyes. “I know this is all new and difficult. We’ll do everything we can to ease you—”

  “I’ll go pack my suitcase.” I leaped from my chair. “How much stuff can I bring?”

  He flicked an ear and blinked. “Pack a bag, and we’ll send for the rest once you’re settled.”

  My parents gave him sheepish smiles.

  “She’s been cooped up for a few days,” Mom said.

  I ran up the stairs and tossed clothes into a suitcase as fast as I could pull them off hangers and scoop them out of the dresser. I threw my toothbrush, toothpaste, and shower gel into a toiletry bag and stopped. What else could I possibly need? Hair products were out. I’d never need those again. I never wore much makeup before, and now that I wanted to, nothing was appropriate for my new coloring.

  I shrugged and zipped the bag. Fairyland—or wherever the hell I was going—had to have drugstores, right? Oh, gods. I truly hoped I didn’t get stuck working at a supernatural drugstore for the rest of my life.

  Once my suitcase was packed, I paused and looked around my room. With the exception of the snake habitat in the corner, the room looked more like a guestroom or a motel room. It was as if no one had ever lived there.

  In a way, I never really had.

  I pushed my sunglasses up the bridge of my nose. “I’ll send for you, Daphne. I promise.”

  ~*~

  The bull guy had promised me housing. He hadn’t promised I’d have it to myself. Two giggling nymphs and a siren shared my dorm room with me. The nymphs were afraid of me and stayed clear whenever possible. The siren used up all the hot water while she sang entire operas in the shower.

  Other than that, though, she was pretty cool. Her name was Lizzy, and she helped ease me into my new life from the first day of my arrival.

  “One thing’s for sure, we need to get you some better clothes,” she said, wrinkling her nose. She flipped through the hangers in my closet, scowling at the sensible skirts and blouses. “Clothes are meant to decorate your body, honey, not hide it.” She took a sip from her wine goblet, one finger sticking out toward me. “And we need to get you some makeup. Seriously. Look at that gorgeous complexion. I’ve got some lavender lipstick that will totally pop against that lovely green.”

  I perched on the edge of my bed and watched her scurry around, humming softly to herself. She snagged a huge cosmetics case and dropped it on the bed next to me. Her face screwed up in concentration as she dragged a chair close to me.

  “Okay. First, I need you to take off those ridiculous sunglasses.” She reached toward me to take them away.

  I pulled away from her reach. Several head-snakes hissed and drew back. “What are you doing? I could turn you to stone.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise, and she stared at me. “What?”

  I pointed at me head. “Hello? I’m a gorgon!”

  Her lower lip quivered. “Honey.” She put her hand on my knee and pressed her lips together while she inhaled through her nose. “Oh, honey.”

  “What? Don’t you know anything about mythology?” I sat straighter, offended. She wasn’t laughing at me, exactly, but she was close. “I can’t take these off when people are around.” I paused as she pulled herself together. “Besides. The light hurts my eyes.”

  She nodded. “Okay, that one’s legit.” She waved her hand. “The stone thing? Totally bogus. That was specifically Medusa’s curse. Haven’t you ever met another gorgon before?”

  I folded my arms across my chest. “I only met me a week ago.”

  “Ah.” She patted my leg. “I see.” She tapped her finger on her thigh, thinking. “Okay. You need a makeover and a full tour. Have you met with your career counselor yet?”

  “I just got here. I have an appointment tomorrow afternoon.”

  She snapped open her makeup case. “Good. We’ve got a lot of work to do before I can take you out in public. Let’s get started.”

  ~*~

  I began my new job looking fabulous. The lavender lipstick was a great contrast to the green eye shadow Lizzie taught me to use as blush. We found some small, round shades that shut out enough light to protect my eyes without covering half my face. The slit in my pencil skirt showed off a whole lot of hot green leg. I learned to coax the snakes into a side part with a few of the smaller ones hanging seductively over one eye. Never in my life had I felt so confident.

  And it was all wasted on the shitty receptionist job they assigned me in the career center.

  I glared through my glasses at the skinny girl in front of me. “Yes?” I pressed my lips together as if she’d done something terribly wrong. The only thing she’d done wrong was have the bad luck to be there when I was there.

  One of my snakes hissed, and the girl twitched and slid paperwork toward me. “I think I filled it out right.” Her voice quivered and her hand shook.

  I felt sorry for her and glanced over the page. “It’ll do.”

  I regretted my grumpy tone and offered a small smile. “Follow the gold line on the floor to Athens. Orientation begins in ten minutes.” I stamped her paperwork with a flourish and dropped it in the outbox. “Next.”

  There wasn’t much to the job. I sat behind a desk and handed out maps of the building, registered newbies for orientation, took complaints, and answered general questions. Better than retail, I supposed. At least I got to sit down.

  But it wasn’t what I wanted to be doing with my life. I wanted to study reptiles and amphibian
s. I wanted to learn things. I wanted to go back to school. The moment I turned green and sprouted snakes from my head, my options became limited.

  It turned out, the job did not actually require me to be nice to people. That was at my own discretion.

  Within a month, I ruled the reception desk and all who stepped inside the brightly lit, domed atrium of the Mount Olympus Employment Agency. If someone wanted something done, they had to go through me to get the proper paperwork. If a new hire showed up, they couldn’t get to orientation until I stamped their application. How long it took to accomplish anything depended solely on my good will.

  If I couldn’t have the career I wanted, I’d take what I was stuck with and make it mine.

  “Next.” I always kept my voice low and cool, sometimes adding a little hiss where I could. It made people nervous.

  A human guy, kind of cute but nothing remarkable, stepped forward and placed a pile of paperwork on the chest-high counter. I gave him a long look until he squirmed, then picked up the papers, slowly tamping them on the counter.

  “I filled in what I could,” he said. His voice shook a little. “I didn’t know the answer to a lot of the questions.”

  Of course he didn’t. No one knew the answers to all of the questions on the intro-forms. Questions like “Which parent is the dominant deity?” and “What powers have you manifested?” weren’t meant to be answered by the majority of newcomers. Most of them had no idea what was going on. They’d hit rock-bottom in their lives, which propelled them into Mount Olympus. They had no idea they had the blood of a god or hero in their ancestry. Like regular humans, they didn’t know any of this existed. The paperwork was meant to give them their first clues in order to ease them into their new reality.

  I grunted and pretended to examine his paperwork. Frankly, as long as his name, address, and social security number were on the form, that’s all that was required. Anything else was bonus.

  “I didn’t understand half of what’s on it,” he said. “What do my parents have to do with any of this?”