Page 45 of Reptile Dysfunction
Mom shares stories about the strange occurrences she now realizes were monster protections. Thad relaxes enough to let his snakes’ personalities show, much to everyone’s amusement.
“Oh,” Mom says during dessert, “how are Sebastian’s wedding plans progressing? I imagine coordinating a Gorgon ceremony has unique considerations.”
“They’re keeping it simple,” Thad replies. “Though the Silver Swimmers have volunteered to handle decorations. Between you and me, Sebastian’s terrified they’ll turn it into a themed event.”
By dessert, Sterling is demonstrating his most businesslike security poses for Dad.
“They’re not what I expected,” Dad admits quietly as we finish our coffee. “The snakes, I mean. Or you,” he adds to Thad. “The stories about enforcers always made you sound…”
“Scarier?” Thad suggests.
“Less…” Dad gestures to where Sterling is now teaching Mom’s service dog to bow. “Personable.”
“Times change.” Thad’s hand finds mine under the table. “Sometimes for the better.”
Looking around the table—at Mom’s bright eyes, Dad’s thoughtful expression, and Thad’s snakes creating an impromptu fashion show with their bowties—I have to agree.
Because sometimes the scariest dinner invitation leads to the best possible outcome.
Even if it takes a few dramatically protective snakes to make it happen.
Chapter Twenty
Thad
The town hall’s ancient floorboards creak under my weight as I follow Sloane into the Revelation Day planning meeting. My back is nearly healed after almost three full weeks of recovery. Although friends and family continue to remind me of my ignominious defeat, at least I can move without my snakes crying about it. Small victories.
“You’re sure about this?” I mutter as we approach the conference room. Through the glass doors, I spot familiar faces—town politicians with plastic smiles, a few token monster representatives, and Sebastian, his snakes sporting snappy red bowties that look dignified on him.
“The committee needs to hear from an actual enforcer instead of just talking about them,” Sloane says, straightening my collar with practiced ease. “Besides, the business needs the exposure.”
She’s right, but my gut still tightens. Five years hiding in plain sight after the Revelation, and now I’m voluntarily putting myself in the spotlight. Sterling, the showoff, stretches toward the glass doors eagerly while my more sensible snakes maintain a wary posture.
We slip into the room during a discussion. Mayor Whitaker stops mid-sentence, his political smile flickering for just a moment before broadening.
“Thaddeus! Couldn’t ask for better timing. We were just discussing security arrangements.”
The subtle tension shift is immediate—heartbeats accelerating, chairs scraping back slightly, eyes darting to my snake-crowned head. Old enforcer instincts catalog each reaction, sorting potential threats from mere discomfort.
Linda Hoyle from the Chamber of Commerce shuffles papers nervously. “With your daughter’s blog post going viral,” she addresses the mayor with a tight smile, “we’re expecting significantly larger crowds than anticipated. Some people have… questions.”
“About whether the scary stories were true,” John Birchfield says bluntly, meeting my gaze without flinching. “Whether enforcers really made troublemakers disappear.”
The room goes silent. Sloane’s hand on my thigh under the table keeps me centered.
“We prevented exposure,” I say, voice low and controlled. “Protected both communities using the tools we had. Sometimes that meant using fear.” I let my eyes shift amber, just enough to make Linda Hoyle’s breath catch. “Sometimes it meant something more serious …”
Sebastian clears his throat. “Which is precisely why having Guardian Solutions handle security is ideal. Who better understands potential threats?”
The meeting lurches into logistics and planning, but I can feel the undercurrent—a fascination laced with lingering fear. As I outline the security protocols, whispers drift from the far end of the table.
“…can’t believe we’re putting the fox in charge of the henhouse…”
“…still makes my skin crawl when his eyes do that thing…”
My snakes register every murmur, each furtive glance. Sterling, surprisingly, maintains a dignified posture instead of his usual showing off. Even he understands the stakes.
“The water ballet is still on schedule,” Iris announces during the entertainment portion of the discussion. “Thaddeus has been very dedicated to his recovery and assures us he’ll be raring to go by showtime.”
