Page 2 of Reptile Dysfunction
The three elders exchange looks that telegraph their thoughts as clearly as if they’d spoken aloud: He’s being difficult again. The poor dear desperately needs a woman in his life.
“Of course, dear.” Iris pats my arm, her hand lingering as she stage-whispers, “Don’t scare this one off. She’s pretty.”
My snakes droop in embarrassment, several hiding behind others. Great. Even my hair is mortified.
As the Silver Swimmers exit to the locker room, each pausing to give Sloane an approving once-over, I’m left alone with the journalist who’s clearly not going anywhere.
“You have five minutes.” I grab a towel and dry my hands. Her gaze flickers down briefly, not appearing to mind my broad shoulders and trim waist, then returns to my face with cool detachment. “And I’m not doing any photo ops.”
“That’s fine. I’m more interested in the real story, anyway.” She clicks her pen. “You were anenforcerbefore the Revelation, correct?”
The question catches me off guard. Most people tiptoe around what monsters did while in hiding. “Where’d you hear that term?”
“Research.” A small, satisfied smile plays at her lips. “I’m good at my job, Mr. Fangborn.”
“It’s Thad.”
“Thad, then.” She makes a note. “As an enforcer, your role was to prevent exposure of the monster community through… what exactly? Intimidation? Threat assessment?”
Preparing to hiss, my snakes rise defensively. “I imagine that’s not the angle your father wants for his celebration puff piece.” This is the fifth anniversary of the day monsters were exposed as living in this world. For the previous four anniversaries, the celebrations were pleasant, whitewashed events full of happy-happy, joy-joy. Now the mayor’s daughter wants to talk about intimidation and threat assessments?
“I’m aware of what my father wants.” Something flashes in her eyes—frustration, maybe rebellion. Interesting. “But I’m not here for the puff piece. Not entirely, anyway.”
“Then what are you here for?”
She studies me for a moment, then closes her notebook. “The truth. Five years of sanitized integration narrative is enough, don’t you think? People deserve to know what really happened, how monsters like you kept everyone safe during centuries of hiding, and what it cost when that ended.”
My snakes quiet, surprised by her apparent sincerity. “You really think the good citizens of Harmony Glen want to hear about the monster boogeyman who used to keep their teenagers from straying too far into the woods at night?”
“I think some truths are worth telling, even uncomfortable ones.” She hands me a business card. “If you change your mind about talking, that’s my personal number. Not the paper’s.”
I take the card automatically, noting the minimalist design and heavy stock. Everything about her screams expensive taste and privilege.
“One more question,” she says, gathering her things. “Why swimming? Of all the jobs in Harmony Glen, why choose this one?”
The question stings more than it should. “Gorgons adapt to water better than you’d think. And the kids don’t care what I look like as long as I help them float.”
Her expression softens almost imperceptibly. “5:15 tomorrow, then? I teach a Pilates class here until 5:00.”
“I didn’t agree to another interview.”
“No, but you will.” She says it with such certainty that I’m torn between irritation and admiration. “Somewhere that doesn’t reek of eau de chlorine? How about Latte Love, the coffee shop across the street?”
Before I can respond, Iris pokes her head out of the locker room. “Thaddeus, be a dear and tell Ms. Whitaker about your brother’s wedding. We’re all so excited!”
Sloane raises an eyebrow. “Your brother is getting married?”
“To a human,” Iris adds helpfully.
“My brother’s business stays out of your story,” I say firmly.
“It could be good for the community to hear about it.” Sloane tucks a strand of honey-blonde hair behind her ear. “A monster-human union during the fifth-anniversary celebration? That’s exactly the kind of positive integration story my father would love.”
“Leave them out of it.” My voice drops lower, and I feel the familiar prickle of my intimidation aura activating. It’s subtle, just enough to make most humans uneasy.
The intimidation aura works within a fifteen-foot radius when I’m calm, extends to twenty-five feet or more when I’m angry. Direct eye contact amplifies it. Most humans feel uncomfortable; some get nauseous; a few panic and run. I’ve learned to control it after years of enforcer work—dial it to barely perceptible when I just need someone to take me seriously, full blast when there’s actual danger.
Sloane, however, merely tilts her head. “Interesting.”
