What Zoey Doesn’t Know

  A Monster Haven Short Story

  by R.L. Naquin

  Edited by Sara E. Lundberg

  Published by Bottle Cap Publishing

  Copyright 2014 R.L. Naquin

  License Notes

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, places, and characters are the product 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 written permission of the author, except as brief quotations.

  Dear awesome reader,

  This is a short story in the Monster Haven world. It occurs between book three, Fairies in My Fireplace, and book four, Golem in My Glovebox, but it can still stand on its own. Find out how it all started in the first book, Monster in My Closet. The Monster Haven books are available wherever e-books are sold.

  More books are on the way. Thanks for reading!

  Rachel

  The mummy barely waited for Zoey’s car to disappear down the driveway before he knocked on the back door. I knew it was him. My monster ears are pretty sharp—probably because of their size. I’m proud of them, even if they do make it hard to wear a hat.

  Hats are cool.

  The mummy’s bandaged feet shuffled up the steps. His gauzed-over knuckles thumped rather than knocked. I opened the door to find Akhenaten waiting, hands tucked into his armpits and head lowered.

  “Dude,” I said. “I just re-bandaged you yesterday.”

  Akhenaten moaned. He did that a lot before speaking. Drove me nuts. “I didn’t know she was making spaghetti for dinner.”

  Sure enough. The gauze around his lips had a reddish stain to it, and tiny red flecks covered his chest and chin. It sort of looked like blood, so I was surprised he was worried about it. It added a startling effect.

  I ran my hand over my head and took a deep breath to keep from getting angry. “I’ve got a lot going on today. I’ll redo your head, but that’s it, okay?”

  He nodded. “Thanks.” He drew the ‘s’ out extra long, and I considered flicking him in the ear. I didn’t. But I thought about it.

  “Sit, sit, sit.” I pulled out a kitchen chair for him, but didn’t offer a drink like I usually did. The game was getting old.

  While Akhenaten got himself settled, I ran down the hall and grabbed the bag of gauze from the back of the linen closet. Zoey found it once when she was digging in there for nail polish, but she didn’t ask why we had so much of it.

  Thank the gods, because she’d kill me if she knew about this.

  After I located the end of the gauze from where I’d tucked it in his collar the day before, I unwrapped the bandages from his head to his neck. His blond hair was sweaty from confinement, and his skin was pale from lack of sun.

  The guy’s real name was Gavin, and why his wife put up with this behavior was beyond me. Humans are weird. I went along with it mostly so he’d leave Zoey alone. She had enough going on without playing counselor to a delusional whackjob who’d accidentally stumbled on the Hidden world and wanted to be part of it.

  Zoey wouldn’t have humored him. She’d have tried to ‘fix’ him. My way was easier. He wanted to play dress up and role-play the whole monster thing, more power to him. Not my business. He paid me in peaches or the occasional bag of walnuts from the trees in his backyard. Fair deal, I guess, since Zoey hated when I took stuff from the neighbors’ yards without their knowledge.

  Once Gavin was rewrapped, I patted him on the shoulder. “Okay, buddy. You’re good to go. Try to keep it clean a little longer this time. I’m running low on supplies.”

  He groaned, long and low. “Thanksss.”

  “No problem. Make sure nobody sees you. It’s broad daylight. Do you want a hat or something?”

  He refused the hat and stumbled out the back door, his legs stiff and awkward, groaning and holding his arms out in front of him. I wasn’t too worried about people seeing him. The magic bubble surrounding our backyard made everyone and everything inside invisible to people outside the bubble. Gavin only had to go through four yards to get to his own house. As long as he was careful, nobody would see him now that most people were at work.

  If he were actually part of the Hidden community, I’d be more concerned. But what was the worst that could happen? Felicia from two doors over might look out her window and see a mummy dragging himself through the trees. If she believed it was a real mummy, she probably wouldn’t tell anybody, for fear of being called crazy. If she thought it was a crazy person in a mummy outfit, she might call the cops. Worst case scenario, Gavin’s little fetish would get exposed and he’d be outed as a human.

  Not my problem.

  Once I was sure he was gone, I grabbed my navy hoodie and zipped myself into the appearance of a passable human. Snagging my eco-friendly, reusable shopping bag, I went out in the opposite direction to make my morning rounds of the neighborhood gardens.

  Zoey’s told me more than once not to do this. Sure. Her reasons were sound, and I totally respected them. If people saw me picking their produce, they’d show up with pitchforks and torches demanding we hand over their purloined eggplants and radishes. That was why Zoey didn’t know about it. Also, it was why I’d never tell her that her favorite pumpkin cheesecake was made from the Deckers’ prize-winning pumpkins and eggs from the Hawthornes’ chicken coop.

  Usually, I made my rounds earlier in the morning, but Zoey had overslept and Gavin had shown up, so I was behind. It meant I had to be faster and stealthier than usual. Speed wasn’t a big deal—closet monsters can move faster than the human eye can follow—but choosing which fruits and vegetables are ripe and how many won’t be missed required more than faster-than-the-eye thought. Most people don’t understand that super-speed doesn’t necessarily equate to super-thought.

  Zipping to and from each garden was great, but I had to stop to examine things. And that’s when things got dangerous.

  Most of the neighbors in the area had regular nine-to-five jobs. At my first stop, a quick peek out front to see that Sandra’s car wasn’t in the driveway told me she was gone. I popped around the side to trim a little rosemary and mint from her herb garden, then strolled to the back to check her tomatoes.

  “Psst. Get down!”

  A hand grabbed my sleeve and tugged. I dropped to the ground, alert. “What’s wrong?”

  “She’s home, you nitwit. Didn’t you check inside? Her car’s in the shop.”

  Startled by the tone, I stopped scanning the area and looked at the guy squatting next to me. I groaned. “Silas, what are you doing here?”

  Silas the pooka was bad news. He was the embodiment of bad luck and took great pleasure in causing trouble for the people around him. Sitting next to him meant the very real possibility of an anvil falling on my head while I slipped on a banana peel dropped by a passing black cat.

  The dude was seriously dangerous.

  Silas rocked back onto his heels and shoved a hairy finger up his nose. “I came to see Zoey. It’s been awhile.” He inspected the goop on the end of his finger and wiped it on Sandra’s grass.

  The first time Silas had shown up, I’d been away. Zoey’d had to put up with him, and he’d trashed the house. He was gone by the time I got back, but I’d dealt with the mess. Since then, he’d visited twice—always at mealtimes. The bad-luck thing he had going wasn’t nearly as disruptive as the slob factor.

  Silas was intentionally disgusting.

  “Zoey’s at work. And she’s really busy, Silas. It’s not a good time for company.”

  He snorted and scratched his belly. “Don’t be stupid. Zoey’s always busy. And I know she’s at work. That’s why I thought I’d grab a little breakfast over here. I thought I’d wait until this broad made breakfast, then move in close until my luck got her. Maybe she’d have to run to the hospital.” He shrugged. “Or worse. Either way, I’d get breakfast.”

  I stared at him, appalled. “Dude, seriously? Is that how you usually get your meals?”

  He smiled and didn’t answer.

  I shook my head. “You need to stay away from our house today. I’ve got a lot to do, and Zoey’s under a lot of stress. Go home.”

  Silas held his stubby arms up with his palms held out. “All right. All right. Don’t get all bossy on me. I brought her some information I thought she’d be interested in.”

  I inhaled and counted to ten. “What information?”

  “What are you, her secretary?”

  Asshole. “Let’s just say I’m her business manager. Everything goes through me.”

  Silas belched. “Fine. Suit yourself. You ever heard of Mytho-crockus?”

  Aside from the fact that Silas was an untrustworthy shit, the word sounded totally made up. I gave him my best eye roll. “You know I haven’t.”

  He examined his filthy fingernails, then used one to pick his teeth. “It’s a neuro-virus. Humans can get it when exposed to a large number of Hidden in their vicinity. It’s why large populations of us don’t generally hang out together around large cities.”

  I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or pop him in the eye. “I’m not an idiot.”

  He looked at me as if I were, in fact, an idiot. “Ignore me if you want. But that mummy I saw leaving your house isn’t the only one infected. Humans all up and down this street were exposed, and I’ve seen several acting like they th ink they’ve got magic powers. Mummy guy is harmless, but Sandra in there thinks she’s a harpy. If you don’t do something, the lady’s likely to jump off her own roof thinking she can fly.”

  I closed my eyes, imagining how upset Zoey would be that her helping so many Hidden creatures had put her human neighbors in danger. “Well, hell. So how do we cure this?” I looked around. “Silas?”

  He’d disappeared without a sound, just as Sandra came around the corner, dragging a ladder with her. She didn’t see me crouched in her marigold patch because she was too focused on securing the ladder against the side of the house. She hummed as she worked, an eerie, tuneless song that sounded more like it came from a carnival ride than the radio.

  She climbed the rungs, a weird little hop to her step, almost as if she were trying to flap a pair of wings she didn’t have. When she made it to the top, she stood tall, flung off her ruffled blouse and industrial-strength bra, and spread her arms wide.

  As much as I hated to admit it, Silas appeared to be telling the truth.

  Fortunately, I have that monster super-speed thing. Before she jumped, I scurried up the ladder, grabbed her from behind, and dragged her down the ladder and into her house, where I locked her into her own bathroom by hooking a chair under the doorknob. It all took about thirty seconds.

  I backed away from the door, breathing hard. She banged a few times, then shrieked, sounding very much like the harpy she thought she was.

  She never saw me, so that was something. Still, I couldn’t keep her locked in there for long. I rubbed my head. What was I supposed to do now?

  “It’s an easy cure, you know.” Silas sat in the next room at Sandra’s kitchen table, stuffing his face with toast that was liberally dusted with sugar and cinnamon. He belched and gulped down a glass of milk. “I can write down the ingredients for you.”

  “You would do that?” My tone was flat. “What’s the catch?”

  He made a face as if he were hurt. “No catch. I don’t want to see people suffer.”

  “Dude. You live to see people suffer.”

  He grinned. “Fair enough. I really do.” He wiped his greasy, sticky fingers on Sandra’s checked tablecloth. “But I’d rather not see Zoey suffer. You? You I don’t care about. But Zoey’s cool. I kind of owe her.”

  Before he could change his mind, I raced through the unfamiliar house and grabbed the first pen and blank piece of paper I could find. “Write it down.”

  He chewed as he scribbled, crumbs flying everywhere. It didn’t take long. He held out the paper, then pulled it away when I reached for it. “Wait.”

  “I knew there was a catch.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “What do you want?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing much.” He tossed a crust on the floor. “I can’t live on toast, you know.”

  I shook my head. “Dude, I don’t have time to make you breakfast. I’m already an hour and a half behind schedule today.”

  “Dinner, then. Tonight. Steak.”

  Zoey hadn’t exaggerated. This guy was a pain in the ass. “Fine. But not a word of any of this to Zoey.”

  “Deal.” He handed over the list and shook my hand.

  I resisted the urge to wipe my hand on my shirt for fear of my hand sticking to the fabric forever. “This is it?”

  He shrugged. “You’re dealing with a virus. You can’t actually cure it. It’s got to run its course. That list helps you manage the symptoms in the meantime.”

  I stared at the short list in my hand. It didn’t have a lot to offer, and none of it seemed likely. “Hairspray? Why hairspray?”

  He smelled his fingers, as if shaking my hand might have left a residue behind. I tried not to curl my lips in disgust as he licked his palm and fingers with a thoughtful look. “Hairspray is sticky. It helps to ‘set’ their true identity rather than the delusions their minds are projecting.” He stuck his wet fingers into the sugar bowl and swirled them around. “Any brand will do.”

  I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was pulling a prank on me. “What about the calamine lotion? What’s that for?”

  “Makes them comfortable in their own skin.” He stuck a finger caked with sugar into his mouth.

  “The mints?” At this point, I was looking for hidden cameras, and I was ready for any answer he gave me.

  “You have to give them two. One to freshen them, the other to ‘re-fresh’ them. That should put their old personality back for a few days and give the virus a chance to work itself out.”

  “No.” I’d been ready for any answer but that, apparently.

  “Yes.” He sucked on his fingers and pulled them out with a loud pop. “I know it sounds stupid, but it’s really a thing. Ask that hag friend of yours, Aggie. She’ll back me up.”

  A thunk and an ear-bursting screech from the bathroom down the hall told me I didn’t have time to consult with Aggie the Hag. I either had to suck it up and trust Silas or call an ambulance for Sandra.

  I zipped up the stairs and rummaged in the closets of Sandra’s primary bathroom. At the back of the cupboard under the sink, I found an off brand of pump-type hairspray, then tore back downstairs with it.

  “So, do I just spray it all over her or…”

  Silas was gone. The kitchen was a wreck of sugar, buttery smears, and dirty dishes. I glanced from the mess to the bottle in my hand, then at the hallway where Sandra certainly sounded like a screeching harpy. If the spray worked, she’d be herself again for awhile. She’d see the mess in her kitchen—a mess she never made—and possibly call the police. Also, I wouldn’t be able to get the lotion on her or get her to suck on a couple of mints, since I couldn’t let her see me.

  Sandra slammed herself against the bathroom door again, and I worried it wouldn’t hold.

  Get ahold of yourself, dude. Whatever you’re going to do, do it fast.

  I trotted toward the front door and threw open the coat closet. I needed mints and calamine lotion before I could do anything else. The more times I had to come back here, the more chances I had of getting caught and exposing the Hidden community to a human—even if that human did currently think she was part of the community.

  I stepped into the closet. A bright light shone from above me and my eyes flicked into closet-monster mode. The elaborate network of the Closet Superhighway lay before me in a grid of the world’s closets. I narrowed my focus first to the United States, then California, then Bolinas, and finally our little neighborhood.

  The Lohman’s up the street had two boys, and both had come home from camp last year with poison oak. They’d be the most likely to have what I needed. I touched the square that held their house, chose a door as the location loomed closer, and stuck my head through the closet door of five-year-old Max’s room. The coast was clear. I could hear Mrs. Lohman vacuuming downstairs, and the kids would be at school.

  Fast as a shooting star, I dashed into the boys’ shared bathroom, found what I needed, and made it back to Sandra’s before a floorboard had a chance to finish squeaking.

  Using that same super-speed, I cleaned up the kitchen, then rummaged in Sandra’s purse for a couple of slightly fuzzy mints. I checked the clock above the stove. Less than two minutes had elapsed. I gave myself a mental high five, since my hands were full.

  The screeching from the bathroom had turned to squawking. If I didn’t do this quickly, Sandra was going to do damage to herself and her bathroom.

  I checked the list one last time, but nothing new turned up. No magic words. No special order in which to apply the items. No instructions of any kind.

  Thanks for you help, Silas. You’re a real prince.

  After stuffing the mints and the hairspray in my pockets, I uncapped the lotion and pulled the chair away from the door. Sandra stopped making angry bird noises, but I heard her pacing back and forth.

  In one smooth motion, I threw open the door and flicked the open bottle so it splattered lotion on her bare chest. I did this while trying to avert my eyes, because, seriously, I am not equipped to deal with human boobs.

  Sandra flailed around for a few seconds, then stopped, rubbing her hands over the lotion in fascination. While she was distracted, I fished the mints from my pocket, defuzzed them as much as I could, popped them both in her mouth, then spun her to face the window so she couldn’t see me when the delusion passed.

 

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