“He’s a creature. He’s literally a Lizardman. In the fucking basement.”

“He’s probably harmless.”

“You don’t know that.”

“He just wants some bugs and a damp place to bed down for the night.”

“I’m calling Sam.”

The woman’s muffled, exasperated sigh floats down to me. “Not Sam, he’ll toy with him for hours. Catfolk are the worst.”

“At least Sam will get the job done. Eventually.”

“No.”

I agree with the wife. Definitely no. I do not want to battle it out with a Catman. I’ll lose. Slowly. 

I slump against the wall as the couple continues to argue about my fate. It’s not like I can really go anywhere. The second that woman caught sight of me hiding behind the furnace, she barricaded the door. The windows are too small for me to fit through. There’s only one way out of this place, and it’s through the fortified door that I just can’t budge.

“Look,” I hear the woman say just above me, “I’ll call that new company, Trollblights. They’ll send an exterminator. At least it’ll be done humanely.”

“Or you could just let me go,” I call out meekly.

“No,” they reply in unison.

Worth a shot.

The woman calls the extermination company as I snack on a few more bugs, trying to focus on the positives. As a prey monster, it’s kind of inevitable I’d wind up in a situation like this. Such is the life of a Lizardman. From the second you hatch, you just know it’s going to be a rough ride. It’s kind of obvious, really, with the Snakemen lying in wait to literally chase you down and eat you from the second you get free of the shell. I’m pretty lucky to have made it this far. I didn’t even think I’d escape the colony, but I just couldn’t take it there anymore. Not with so many ‘alpha’ Lizardmen vying for the few Lizardwomen among us, ready to tear apart anyone they see as a threat, despite the fact my romantic preferences secretly lean toward the human and not my own kind.

I sigh, imagining that life I really wanted, the one free of my colony and the restrictions of our reptilian society. Maybe I’d find a companion one day. Maybe I’d always be alone, a monster in a world that is not yet ready to accept our kind. But it would have been better, at least. Even alone, life could have been free.

Eventually, I fall asleep in the damp and the dark of the farmhouse cellar, dreaming of all that could have been.

When I awake, there’s a new voice above me. A woman, her voice rich and raspy. I sit up and brush myself off, tilting my head to listen more closely to the lyrical, smoky sound.

“And you said the creature is trapped down there? The office said it’s a Lizardman?”

“That’s right,” the wife says. “I only caught a glimpse, but I’m sure it’s a Lizardman. I saw the pouch thing on his neck so it’s definitely not a female.”

“All right, ma’am. How about you and the family head out for a bit while I check that he doesn’t have documentation to be in the area and then I’ll get rid of him if not. I’ll give you a call as soon as it’s all taken care of. Sound good?”

“Yes, thank you. Good luck. Just… make it painless, okay?”

“Don’t worry, ma’am. I’m a professional.”

I hear the wife walk through the living space, gathering her human belongings, ushering her son and husband out the door. A moment later, the engine of their truck roars to life and crunches down the gravel driveway, leaving the farmhouse in an eerie state of calm.

For a long moment, there’s silence. But the exterminator’s faint scent finds me through the damp and the dirt, past the dusty cobwebs and old wood. She smells like morning dew clutching to grass, like river water. Like life. My heart aches in my chest for all the things I’ll never see or smell again.

The exterminator’s quiet steps cross the floor above me. The main door of the house opens and closes. Her footfalls are light across the wooden porch and the stairs that descend to the driveway, an unevenness haunting the cadence of her steps. I hear her draw closer to the barricaded exterior door to the basement.

My heart pounds. I stand, running my hands across my scales, brushing the dirt away, and I wait in the shadow of the furnace for death to find me.

OceanofPDF.com

2

OceanofPDF.com

LAYLA

The convergence of dimensions ten years ago really opened a lot of job opportunities for me. Before the sphere of monsters and demons crashed into Earth ten years ago, I thought I was going to be a vet tech. But as soon as the demons started making us into meat snacks, I knew I’d found my calling.

Demon hunting.

As the youngest in a family of seven boys, I was really cut out for that shit. I developed enough grit and determination from birth to survive those assholes, so I had built-in foundational training. The second the government started forming the Guild Demonica, I signed up. And after seven years and six tours of killing demons across the farthest corners of the globe, it was a life I thought I’d never leave.

But my injury ended it all.

And now, here I am, working as a monster exterminator for Trollblights.

A heavy sigh passes through my lips as I push the first of three heavy barrels away from the door. This isn’t really the life I imagined, hunting and killing unpapered monsters. It’s not at all what I want to do, but with my Guild training and my experience killing demons, I know I’ll be good at it. I started with Trollblights three days ago and so far, I’ve only killed a Waspman. He was an asshole too, so I don’t feel bad about it. He managed to sting my bad leg before I shot him in the face, and now it’s itchy as fuck on top of the constant discomfort that creeps into every step I take.

“Just a job,” I say to myself as I shift the second barrel away from the door. “Just another monster that doesn’t belong here.”

I never had a problem killing the demons. They eat us, after all, and they’re pretty hideous with their rows and rows of jagged teeth and their virtually nonexistent noses and sulfurous, flaky skin. But the monsters, they don’t all seem so bad. Some are integrating into society pretty well. The Butterflies are getting more and more movie deals. It’s understandable, I guess. They’re beautiful with their elvish features and shimmering skin. The Catfolk are cuddly enough to fit in even though they can be a little vicious, and the Ravenkind are great problem solvers who have made strides in STEM fields. Others haven’t gone down quite so well, like the Snakemen who eat anything they can catch. But no matter what kind of creature they are, they aren’t meant for our world, and if left unchecked they can reproduce like crazy and take over local ecosystems.

It might not be a pretty job, but someone has to keep the monsters in check.

Plus, I have rent to pay.

The heat of the midday summer sun barrels down on my uniform of black jeans and a Trollblights branded polo as I blow a lock of blond hair from the sheen of sweat collecting on my forehead. I push the third barrel away, resting it against the side of the house. I unholster my Beretta but keep it pointed to the ground as I turn the handle and push the door into the darkness.

“My name is Layla. I’m from Trollblights, a certified extermination agency. I’m coming in,” I say to the silent shadows, clicking on my flashlight as I take a step down into the cool, damp air of the cellar. “I know you’re in here. Do you have a name?”

“Of course I have a name,” a deep voice rumbles from the darkness, the tone a little unsure.

“I’m sorry… it’s just that not all of you talk, so it’s a bit hit-or-miss.”

There’s a long pause of silence. I descend another step, and then another, my grip on the gun tightening.