Page 8 of Reptile Dysfunction
I nod.
She lets out a low whistle. “It’s weird. I love it.”
She hands me the helmet, then reworks her hair tie. “How long have you had it?”
“Three years. Bought it after the Revelation when housing options opened up for monsters.” I lead her to the entrance at the base. “The previous owner was a human architectwith eccentric tastes. He started the conversion but moved to Montana halfway through.”
“So you finished it?”
“I made it livable.” I unlock the heavy steel door. “It’s still a work in progress.”
The entry level contains nothing but the spiral staircase and a small mudroom where I store my motorcycle gear. “It’s a climb. You sure those sensible shoes are up for it?”
She arches an eyebrow. “Calling me out of shape, Gorgon? You haven’t seen me teaching Pilates at the Y every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday?”
I refuse to cop to the fact that, yeah, I’ve noticed her once or twice—or perhaps every single Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
“Fair warning: Gorgons have legendary stamina.”
The line hangs there like a challenge. She meets it head-on.
“I’ll try to keep up.”
“Try harder.”
By the time we reach the main living area, her breathing is slightly elevated, though she’s admirably trying to hide it. The space looks different with a visitor present—more exposed somehow, as though my solitary habits are on display.
“This is a breathtaking view,” she says, moving immediately to the windows that curve around the circular space, offering a spectacular view of the surrounding woods and distant town lights. “You can see all of Harmony Glen from here.”
“That’s the idea. Good vantage point.”
“For keeping watch?” She turns from the windows, eyes shrewd. “Enforcer habits die hard?”
My snakes shift uneasily. “Something like that.”
She notices a framed photograph on the bookshelf—one of the few personal items visible. “Is this your brother?”
The photo shows Sebastian and me at his library, taken shortly after the Revelation. He’s surrounded by children during storytime, his snakes adorned with tiny bowties that match his outfit. I’m standing to the side, arms crossed, looking distinctly uncomfortable with the whole situation.
“Sebastian. The ‘good’ Fangborn brother, according to most of Harmony Glen.”
“The librarian,” she recalls. “The one getting married.”
I nod, moving to the kitchen area. “Want something stronger than coffee?”
“What are you offering?”
Opening a cabinet, I pull out a bottle of bourbon and two glasses. “This acceptable?”
“Perfect.” She settles onto one of the barstools at the kitchen counter, watching as I pour. “So, how does a former enforcer end up teaching swimming lessons at the local Y?”
I slide a glass toward her. “That’s your opening question? Bit pedestrian for an investigative piece.”
“I’m establishing context before we dive into the heavier stuff.” She takes a sip, maintaining eye contact. “When monsters revealed themselves five years ago, some had clear paths forward. Librarians continued being librarians. After a year of training, doctors became official doctors for both species. But enforcers…”
“Became obsolete.” The admission tastes bitter. “It’s hard to be the secret monster police when there’s no secret to protect.”
“So why swimming?”
