2. Stella

Iwake up with a pounding headache. That's the last time I'm ever having tequila. And this time I mean it.

The world is blurry, and comes into focus worryingly slowly. How much did I drink last night? I remember…

Not much, actually.

It was Emily's birthday. We went out for drinks. It had been a long day at the office, so I was ready to blow off some steam.

But this? It's not like me to get wasted. Ever since I turned thirty, having more than two drinks means I need an entire weekend to recover. The joys of aging.

Of course, all my co-workers tell me 32 isn't old. Easy for them to say: they're all in their early twenties, dating, partying, living it up. They have their whole life ahead of them.

Meanwhile, I spent the last decade taking care of my aging parents. No time for college or dating. Both of my parents passed last year, and now I'm on my own.

Thirty two years old, with no diplomas, no career prospects, and no dating life. Not quite how I expected my life to turn out, but that's the way it went.

I was really lucky to land a job as a legal secretary for a small, local firm. They took a risk hiring me seeing as I have no experience or qualifications, and so I work my butt off to prove my worth. And you know what they say: Work hard, party harder, right?

I might have overdone the partying last night, however. The word is still blurry, and my entire body aches. This is not right.

I've had hangovers before, but nothing like this.

I take a deep breath and try to stand up.

"Careful, human. You're still dosed to the gills. Rest."

A green, webbed hand presses down on my chest, pushing me back into my bed. The words sound very strange. They're like wet, smacking grunts, and yet they make perfect sense at the same time.

I open my eyes as wide as possible and try my hardest to focus.

Did Emily dose me with acid or something? Is that's what happening?

Slowly but surely my surroundings come into focus. I wish they hadn't. Because what I see, right in front of me, is a giant green scaled face with unsettlingly large, jet-black eyes.

There's a giant lizard man standing in front of me.

"Emily?" I ask. "Is that you? What the hell did you slip me last night? You know I don't partake. You do you, but it's not for me."

The giant lizard creature blinks. It cocks its head to the side, and its forked tongue slithers out its mouth.

I'm starting to suspect that this might not be my bubbly, twenty-year old colleague with a penchant for gluing googly-eyes onto the office stationary.

"Not Emily," the creature slithers with strange, wet words. "My name you cannot pronounce, human. Rest. You need to be at your full strength for the auction. You will not fetch me a hefty price if you're babbling on like this."

Auction?

What in the world is happening?

I shake my head, take a couple of deep breaths, and take a good look at my surroundings. It's only then that I notice I'm wearing a white gown, and that I'm strapped to a metal slab, and that I'm hooked up to some type of machine full of symbols that make no sense to me.

Okay. It's time to full-on panic right now.

I try to get up using all my strength, but they've got me strapped down tightly. The lizard creature sighs, rolls its black eyes, and grabs a syringe filled with a radiant liquid.

"Why don't you humans ever listen?" the creature says as he pricks me with the syringe. "Stay calm. You are more valuable when you're calm."

The liquid burns as it enters my arm — and then I'm out cold.