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    Tattoo Switcheroo: A Primordial Realms Urban Fantasy Novella, #0
    Tattoo Switcheroo: A Primordial Realms Urban Fantasy Novella, #0
    Tattoo Switcheroo: A Primordial Realms Urban Fantasy Novella, #0
    Ebook102 pages1 hour

    Tattoo Switcheroo: A Primordial Realms Urban Fantasy Novella, #0

    By Stacy Benedict

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    About this ebook

    A normal day turns into a nightmare for supernatural nurse Fionnley McCarthy when she switches bodies with a patient. Now she must learn to trust her Jane Doe mystery patient to find a cure for a preternatural disease. But with bizarre symptoms getting in their way, can Fionnley and Jane Doe find the remedy before the switch becomes permanent?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherStacy Benedict
    Release dateAug 6, 2018
    ISBN9781386618232
    Tattoo Switcheroo: A Primordial Realms Urban Fantasy Novella, #0

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      Book preview

      Tattoo Switcheroo - Stacy Benedict

      Chapter 1

      Note to self: never use a Pump ’N Save restroom again. Ever. Fionnley pushed the grimy ladies room door open with her toe. Even though she had tried to avoid skin on greasy surface contact with any object in the dank bathroom, she still felt in need of a bath with extra-strength bleach.

      She inhaled a deep breath to clear her nose of the lingering urine stench as she walked to the gas station’s storefront to return the bathroom key. Normally, her drive home from the hospital was thirty minutes on a bad day. Because of an accident today, traffic snarled the highway for miles. Cars even lined the side streets bumper to bumper.

      After an hour and a half of seeing the same traffic light turn from green to yellow to red five times with little movement, she couldn’t wait any longer. Well, her bladder certainly couldn’t. She’d veered off the road, practically driving on the sidewalk to turn into the nearest business. It wasn’t her proudest moment, and she was grateful no police officers lurked nearby.

      Thanks, Fionnley said to the woman at the counter who stood behind thick bulletproof glass. Can I have a Pick Three scratch-off and… She glanced through the windows to gauge the road.

      Traffic had barely moved. The party-rentals truck that had been in front of her was still stuck at the intersection.

      Ugh, why me goddess? Mentally groaning, she perused the candy shelves for licorice, but didn’t see anything good so she settled for sour red gummies and a Flowers in the City magazine.

      I’d rather wait out the traffic parked here than waste petrol idling on the road.

      The screech of tires drew Fionnley’s attention away from her wallet. A blue Chevrolet barreled over the curb, swerved into the gas station, and crashed into a car parked at pump number six. It took her a minute to register what had happened. Her eyes bugged out.

      My car! she wailed and ran out of the store towards her yellow Volkswagen beetle. A thousand curse words clamored on the tip of her tongue. She pounded on the Chevy’s driver’s side window. You idiot! What’re you thinking? Your insurance better be up to snuff.

      The expression on face of the woman behind the wheel killed Fionnley’s rant. She didn’t need over twenty years of nursing experience to know when someone was in pain.

      Are you all right? Fionnley scanned her for wounds.

      The woman clutched the steering wheel with whitening knuckles. A pink scrunchie bound her light brown hair in a ponytail, and her pregnant stomach protruded out in front of her like a beach ball. A greenish glow beamed within the depths of her hazel eyes, pinging warning bells in Fionnley’s head.

      The woman moaned, rubbing her belly, anguish in her eyes.

      Fionnley jiggled the door handle. It was locked. Open the door. I can help. I’m a nurse. She pointed to her blue scrubs, but the lady shook her head.

      The gas station attendant ran up to the car. Should I call 9-1-1? Is anyone hurt?

      Fionnley tapped on the glass and motioned for the pregnant woman to roll the window down.

      She slid it down half way and croaked in a strained voice, I’m fine. Don’t call anyone.

      Fionnley tuned to the attendant. Can you, maybe, get her a bottle of water? She looks dehydrated.

      The attendant hesitated, staring back and forth between Fionnley and the woman.

      Fionnley dug out thirty dollars from her purse and pressed it into the gas station attendant’s hand. For the water, and please finish ringing up my stuff. I’ll see to her and call the police about the accident.

      Shoving the money into her pocket, she gave a look that seemed to say, "Whatever, lady."

      When the attendant had gone back into the store, Fionnley turned to the pregnant woman. Look into my eyes. I’m not human either, she whispered as she pushed her face close to the other woman’s. I’m a Hygieia nurse at Danu Medical Center, and you’re in labor.

      The pregnant woman inhaled a sharp breath, recognizing the otherworldly glow in Fionnley’s eyes. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.

      You do seem a bit distracted. Fionnley gave her a small smile.

      I was on my way to Danu to meet my OBGYN when my water broke. Her voice trailed off into a groan, and she winced in pain.

      Fionnley whipped out her phone to start timing the contractions. What’s your name and species?

      Dido. I’m a centaur, she said after the contraction passed.

      Fionnley dialed the emergency phone number for Danu Medical Center’s Otherworlder wing. This is Hygieia Fionnley McCarthy. I have a centaurides in labor.

      She told the operator the street names. The operator asked, How many centimeters dilated is the patient?

      We’re at a human-operated gas station. The centaurides isn’t in her natural form. Please hurry with an ambulance.

      Dido moaned and dug her nails into the steering wheel. Not again…

      Another contraction?

      Dido nodded. Her face contorted as she turned tomato red.

      Fionnley checked the time. Not even five minutes. This can’t be good. Dido, I don’t know if the ambulance will make it in time. I need to check how far along you are.

      Here? Dido’s mouth fell open.

      Cars still jammed the street, and people waiting at the bus terminal stared at them.

      Fionnley considered her options. None were perfect. She ran back to the gas station and surveyed the little convenience store. The attendant sat behind the register, reading Fionnley’s copy of Flowers in the City magazine. There were three aisles—one contained a row of chips and various snacks, the middle had cleaning and household supplies, and the last contained bread and a row of coolers with beers, sodas, and ice cream.

      Brilliant. We’ll need privacy if Dido has to transform into a centaur.

      Even though humans were incapable of seeing Otherworlder magic and true forms, Dido would still appear to anyone looking in like half a woman with her lower body missing.

      The attendant startled when Fionnley barged up to the counter. The woman out there is in labor. I need to examine her, now and in here.

      B-but…, the attendant stammered, her face blanching.

      Spread out garbage bags on the floor in the back. Bring six percent alcohol hand sanitizer and rubber gloves.

      The attendant blinked at her.

      Now, Fionnley barked over her shoulder before heading outside to bring Dido in.

      To her credit, the attendant was laying down black garbage

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