Ill-Conceived Magic: A Monster Haven Short Story

By R.L. Naquin

Empath and caretaker to monsters, Zoey Donovan, finds a package on her front lawn. It cries a lot and wears diapers. It also has horns, cloven hooves, and green skin.

Zoey and Maurice the closet monster look for the unlikely parents in a crazy attempt to bring together the mismatched family. A dangerous prospect, considering the family's hostile relatives.

Ill-Conceived Magic is a short story in the same world as the Monster Haven novels from Carina Press. It also includes a bonus first chapter of Pooka in My Pantry.

This story can be enjoyed without having read the novels. However, it fits chronologically between book one, Monster in My Closet, and book two, Pooka in My Pantry. Books one and two are available everywhere great digital books are sold.

This story also appears in the short story collection, Transmonstrified.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R.L. Naquin
• Release date: Mar 6, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301665532

R.L. Naquin

Rachel is the author of the Monster Haven urban fantasy series from Carina Press and the Mt. Olympus Employment Agency series from Bottle Cap Publishing. Her head is packed with an outrageous amount of useless Disney trivia. She is terrified of thunder, but not of lightning, and sometimes recites the Disneyland dedication speech during storms to keep herself calm. She finds it appalling that nobody from Disney has called yet with her castle move-in date. Originally from Northern California, she has a tendency to move every few years, resulting in a total of seven different states and a six-year stint in England. Currently, she’s planning her next grand adventure. Rachel has one heroic husband, two genius kids, a crazy-cat-lady starter kit, and an imaginary dog named Waffles. She doesn’t have time for a real dog.

Book preview

Ill-Conceived Magic

A Monster Haven Short Story

by R.L. Naquin

Published by Bottle Cap Publishing at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 R.L. Naquin

License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. Pirates are better than ninjas, but not book pirates. Those guys need to walk the plank.

Table of Contents

Ill-Conceived Magic

Books in the Monster Haven Series

About R.L. Naquin

Connect with R.L. Naquin

Excerpt from Pooka in My Pantry

As soon as I stepped out of my car, the fairies were on me—and those little buggers move pretty damn fast. They swarmed my driveway, buzzing around my head and grabbing tiny handfuls of my hair. I swatted at them, but my objections were as ineffectual as trying to dart between raindrops in a downpour.

Guys, let me at least get my stuff out of the backseat. What the hell is your problem?

Their voices were too high-pitched for me to understand anything they were saying, but I was an empath. Words weren’t always necessary for me to get to the creamy center of a situation. I opened up my barriers and let in the emotions coming from the fairy flock.

Worry. Urgency. Alarm.

The emotions banged against me like miniature fists. Whatever had the little people’s leafy panties in a bunch needed my immediate attention. I left my purse and bag of groceries behind and slammed the car door.

All right, I said, rubbing my head. Quit yanking. You’re making my scalp hurt. I’ll follow you.

They let go, and several darted ahead faster than my eyes could follow. The rest stayed behind to lead me around to the side of the house, keeping up the sonic chattering.

I picked my way through the grass, cursing at the wet soil sucking at my high heels. When I rounded the corner, I found the fairies clustered around a small basket of laundry.

No. Not laundry.

Hell, no, I said.

I bent over. Two bright eyes the odd blue-green of algae stared up at me. One chubby fist had escaped the swaddling and grabbed at the air.

The baby’s skin was a soft sage, its hair a dark olive.

I let loose a heavy sigh and took hold of the basket's handle. Its inhabitant gurgled at me.

Sure. You say that now. Wait till you get inside and find out I have no idea what to do with you.

I scanned the yard and the edge of the nearby woods, hoping to spot the owner of the package I carried. No one lurked in the area, not even my skunk-ape bodyguard, Iris. Usually, he stepped out from behind a tree and gave me a wave when I got home each day.

Coward. I was pretty sure he could hear me. Iris might be out of sight, but he was always nearby.

The fairies, having done their part in the Great Green Baby Unveiling, scattered. It was nice they had so much faith in me. Too bad I had none of my own.

I circled around to the front yard, grabbed my purse and bag of groceries from the car and trudged up the porch steps, balancing everything with the basket of unidentified child. Muffled music trickled out from the house, so I knew somebody was home. I kicked the door with my foot, hoping my housemate would hear and let me in. After a minute or so, no help was forthcoming. I dropped the groceries on the porch and left them there to free up a hand and let myself inside.

What greeted me shocked me far worse than finding a green orphan on my lawn.

Maurice, a tall, gangly closet monster dressed in black and white checkered pants and a green and yellow paisley shirt, occupied the middle of the living room. Phil, his enormous gargoyle brother-in-law, stood next to him in blue sweats and a tie-dyed t-shirt. Both were going through a divorce, and while Maurice was staying indefinitely, Phil was only with us for a few days.

Though I was a bit peeved that neither of them heard me banging on the door, I was used to seeing Hidden creatures and accustomed to the unique fashion choices they often made, so their appearance was no cause for concern. People can adjust to almost anything.

Almost.

The two stood side-by-side, arms across each other’s shoulders, swaying to the music.

And singing My Heart Will Go On into a microphone.

I rested the basket on the back of the couch with one hand keeping it steady. I cleared my throat, but the songbirds didn’t notice