Monstrous Page 16

  Father reaches out to touch my face again, running his thumb over my chin. A wave of calm washes over me. “Oh, Kymera, I never meant for you to kill the wizard. I have yet to find a safe way to do it. I created you to stop him. There’s a difference. Freeing those girls and getting them away from him, that is how we will stop the wizard.”

  Relief floods my limbs. I don’t have to worry. Father always tells the truth. It makes much more sense now.

  Except that Father seems as troubled as I did a few minutes ago. I squeeze his hand as I pull it away from my face.

  “Are you sure there are no more dragons like the ones in my books?”

  “Not anymore. The wizards have hunted them all down for their magic. Sometimes one hears rumors, but that is all nowadays. Why do you ask?”

  Heat creeps around my shoulders and onto my neck, like it will burn me up just for thinking of the words crossing my tongue. I have no choice but to keep Batu secret. “I just wondered. I wish, very much, to meet a dragon. There are not many of them, and there are even less of me.”

  Father brushes my hair away from my face as I toy with my fingernails. If I look him in the eye, he will know I’m hiding something from him.

  “That just makes you special,” he says.

  “Sometimes, I wish I was not so special.” Sometimes, I wish I was still the once-me girl. Normal, and loved by friends and family, not the creature who hides in the forest and skulks through the city at night. And yet at the same time, I am so grateful that I am able to help these girls, as no one was able to help the once-me.

  He considers me with raised eyebrows. “My dear, I think we need to lay out some new ground rules for your visits into the city. If you’re overhearing that much, wanting to mix with humans that much, you must be straying from the route I planned. It will not take you near any of the public houses or other places where large groups could be overheard.” He points his finger. “You have been going off on your own and exploring Bryre.”

  The skin from my skull to tail turns red. I stare at the floor. “Yes, Father. I have.”

  He rises from his chair, trembling with pent-up anger. “It must stop immediately. Do you understand?”

  I nod, unable to meet his eyes. The pounding in my chest reverberates in my ears.

  He takes my chin again and tilts my head up, forcing me to look in his face. I flinch. “Are you certain? If the humans find out about you, it will ruin everything.”

  His words send prickling shivers down my spine. Does he know what I’ve really been doing? Could he?

  “Answer me!”

  The fury in his voice makes me jump in my seat, while guilt and fear flood my veins. “Yes, yes, I understand. I will not do it again. I promise. I will follow your directions to the letter.” I clutch my quivering hands together in my lap so Father cannot see them.

  “You had better. If not, you will doom every one of those girls in the prison. Not to mention yourself.” He storms out of the house before I can even attempt to utter an apology.

  If I do as I have just promised, it means I can’t go anywhere with Ren. Except to the fountain. That’s on Father’s route. I can only meet Ren there.

  I throw up my hands, covering my face, as I rise from my chair. I should not meet Ren at all. But I will. I can’t help myself.

  I run to the door, watching Father’s receding figure as he marches to the tower and his laboratory. I can’t help wondering whether I have already ruined everything with my actions. If only I had never strayed from my path and never bothered with Ren.

  But most of all I worry that too many things don’t add up. What if Father is wrong? About the humans, about me, and about my memories?

  DAY FIFTY-THREE

  BETWEEN THE VISIONS, WHAT REN AND OLIVER SAID ABOUT KILLING wizards, and the contradictions from Father, my head is a jumbled mess. I don’t know what to think anymore. Perhaps they’re all misled and the truth lies somewhere in between?

  Despite my promise to Father, I enter the city through a different route tonight. Bryre is a haunted place, and I have not yet ferreted out all its secrets. Ren has told me much, but even he can’t know the whole truth. I am certain more remains to be discovered that could help us, and perhaps could help me remember my past.

  This part of the city has not yet been taken by the briars, but when I land on the highest rooftop in this section, I can see it’s on its way here. Slowly but surely, the creeping vines move. Every night, I check their progress, and every night, I’m disturbed to see another building’s foundation uprooted, or another room in the palace turned to rubble.

  Voices carry on the wind. Women. And men’s voices like Father’s, too.

  Heat flashes over my face. These voices are animated and I think they might be arguing. They come to me from a long, squat building at the end of the alley. The windows are dark and the roof sags in places. I hop down from my perch and creep closer. Perhaps the curfew only applies to children?

  Curious, I lean against the side of the building, just beneath the window.

  “You don’t even know if that’s true,” says a man’s voice. “Leave it alone and fetch me another ale, will ya?”

  A woman snorts. “I have it on good authority from my cousin, a nurse at the quarantine hospital. Every morning when she gets to work, another girl has vanished. The guards wake up groggy with no memory of the night before. They’re either dying or someone takes them. Either way, the hospital is hushing it up.”

  “It’s that beast on the road,” a man says, but his words bleed together and it’s difficult to make them out. “That girl . . . with the tail and fangs . . . and . . .” A clatter and snickers follow his words, but my heart grows cold. On the last day of my training, I stung a man. Could this be him?

  “Why don’t ya just have a seat in that corner, William,” the woman says. “Sleep it all off, boy.”

  More people talk at once, but I pick out pieces of what they say.

  “It’s the wizard again, Marta, you can count on it,” a third man says.

  “Well, what are you boys going to do about it, eh? Just let him take our girls?” the woman answers.

  “If we could find him, we’d string him up for the crows.” Several male voices echo this sentiment, then fade to rumblings.

  “I think it’s something different,” interrupts another man. “When I was over the mountains for business these past few weeks, the people in the village at the foothills spoke of men who deal in live goods.”

  “What are you talking about?” snaps the woman.

  “Human goods,” the man says.

  The room goes silent.

  Human goods? What on earth is that?

  “Slaves?” the woman finally whispers.

  “Exactly. It’s different this time. Not like what the wizard did before. Something’s changed. I stake my money on traders. And I’d bet they’re living among us.”

  “Jonah Barry, that’s ridiculous. No one in this city would do that. Except maybe Jimmy Hill, but only if he was real drunk and desperate for coin. Besides, these are peaceful times. Who would he sell them to?”

  Several voices speak at once, rising into an indecipherable cacophony. I press my hands to my ears, not wanting to hear any more. Their conversation has made me uneasy, something in their words picking at a memory that refuses to shake loose.

  I flee into the shadows, wishing only for comfort, but there is none to be had.

  The wizard attacks from all sides. He will ruin the city one way or the other. And he can’t be killed by anyone other than another wizard. At least not anyone who wishes to live.

  I still don’t understand why Father didn’t tell me about that. He claims it’s because he does not want me to take such a risk, but why did he give me the tools to stun, to tear, and to kill? Why did he teach me how to hunt and be stealthy if not to destroy our enemy?

  The night breeze picks up, toying with my cloak and a lock of my black hair. Ren waits for me by our fountain. I’m dying
to go to him. But I don’t think I will tonight. My head is too muddled and I never can think straight around the boy who sneaks me roses from the king’s personal garden.

  Tonight, I’ll rescue another girl and return home. It’s better this way. But just for tonight.

  I tackle the guards in the prison earlier than usual, and leave with a girl with unruly brown curls as fast as I can. I worry about the guards; do they have families too? How willing are they in their aid of the wizard? The prison has always made me uncomfortable, but it is getting worse. Just entering the building makes my stomach flip in all sorts of unpleasant ways. Something about that place niggles at the back of my mind, something I should know, but I can’t remember what it is, or even why I feel this way.

  Carrying my burden, I alight in an alley by the cherub fountain and prepare to run home.

  “What’re you doing?”

  Cold dread pierces my heart and the smell of baking bread roots me to the spot.

  No. Not Ren. Not here, not now.

  I clutch the unconscious girl close to my chest and do not turn. He can’t see me like this. Instinct roils in my gut—do I fly or sting him before he discovers what I am about? If he knew I took Delia from the city, Ren would hate me. If he sees what’s in my arms, he just might make that assumption. I did it to save her, but he misses her enough that I doubt he’d understand.

  Before I decide, he chooses for me. He circles around; turning away again will only make it too obvious.

  “What—?” He stops midsentence, staring at the girl’s hair spilling out of my cloak. I can guess the thoughts that must be going through his head.

  “It’s not what you think,” I squeak. Every muscle in my body is strung as tight as a bow. I should flee. Now.

  He brushes my cloak away to reveal the girl’s face. He jumps back, shuddering. Horror creeps over his face, changing his warm features into a cold expression. “What in Bryre are you doing with the miller’s daughter?”

  My cheeks redden and I cling to the girl tighter. Of course he knows her. He probably knows them all.

  Just like he probably knew me.

  “I swear on my life. It’s not what you think.”

  “You.” He points. “You work for the wizard.”

  “No!” I cry. “I hate the wizard. He took everything from me. I work against him. I am saving her!”

  Ren shakes his head and paces back and forth between the alley walls, gulping ragged breaths. “No, only the wizard takes the girls.”

  Ice forms at the base of my spine, chilling me inside and out. I am nothing like the wizard. How could he even think that? “Ren, please.”

  Realization dawns, spreading over every inch of his exposed skin in a furious red. “You took Delia,” he whispers.

  I can’t answer. I did take her, but not in the way he thinks. The awful cold feeling crawls into my chest and curls up under my heart. There is no getting out of this. I cannot fully explain without betraying Father.

  He grabs my arm and squeezes. “Where is she?”

  I try to shake him off, but he’s stronger than I expect. Something frightening burns in his eyes. My arm begins to ache. The terror welling up inside has me shivering uncontrollably.

  “I saved her life,” I say. “And I’m saving this girl, too. Now let me go.”

  When he releases my arm and lunges for the girl, the green scales of my tail flash in a blinding arc. He staggers backward, fear and hatred twisting his once kind face. For a moment, his usual scent transforms to that of burned toast. Then Ren is on the ground, clutching his chest. I can only stare, horrified at what I’ve done—again—as the fire in his eyes flickers out.

  Footsteps and voices echo from the far end of the alley. Someone heard us arguing.

  I leap up to the rooftops, skimming along until I reach the walls and can fly off without fear of being seen by human eyes.

  But the guilt of what I’ve done to Ren, and the lingering fear of something wrong, follows me all the way home.

  DAY FIFTY-FOUR

  THE SUN WAKES ME, BUT I’M COLD WITH CONFUSION AND TROUBLED dreams. Nothing makes sense anymore. Ren despises me. I can’t believe I stung him again. I wish there was a way to make him understand we’re saving the girls, not hurting them.

  I roll out of bed, my legs like jelly. I must tell Father about Ren and beg his forgiveness. Perhaps he’ll have an idea on how to convince Ren our mission is a good one. I’m sure he’d want to help if he understood. He hates the wizard as much as we do.

  If only I could tell Father about Batu, my rock dragon, but I push that thought aside. Even if it weren’t impossible due to the blood bond, my friendship with a dragon is not something that would compromise our mission. Ren’s awareness, left unchecked, definitely could.

  I tiptoe into the cottage proper, but Father is not in his usual spot by the fire.

  Pippa whines in the corner, begging to be let outside. She loves to chase the chickens. I open the door and she zooms into the yard. I wander after her, but Father is not outside, either. He must be working in his laboratory. The tower door creaks open at my touch, but no other sounds present themselves. I pry open the trapdoor with my claws and climb down the stairs. The room is empty and dark. Has he gone out for a walk? I’ll have to wait for him to return.

  I shiver from the chill of the boxes Father keeps down here. There are so many more now that it makes the room colder than I recall. What does he keep in them all? Is he preparing an army of goat-footed chickens to defeat the wizard? The locked box comes to mind. I can’t be sure what I saw, but it was very strange. Curious, I crack the lid of the nearest one—more chickens waiting to be returned to life. The next contains a large owl; its beady, empty eyes glare back and I quickly shut the lid. The next has the oddest thing yet—huge curved claws. Like a giant version of my own.

  I approach a fourth box, the one in the same place the locked cold box once was. My palms are sweaty, and I wipe them on my dress. I have no reason to fear this box. It is only more parts for Father’s creations.

  It could not be anything else.

  This does nothing to calm me, and my heart beats a staccato rhythm in my chest. I place my hands on the top of the cold box and thrust it open. I yelp, clapping my hands over my mouth.

  The sickly girl whose death I hastened with my venom lies inside. Her hands are crossed over her chest as though she’s trying to keep warm in her sleep. It was a hand I saw slip out of the cold box. Panic rushes over me. Father said he sent her off with Darrell to be buried in Belladoma. How did she get back here? Did Darrell return her for some unfathomable reason?

  More important, why didn’t Father tell me?

  Another body comes to my mind. That faun Pippa uncovered beneath my garden. A chill slinks from the crown of my head to the tip of my tail. Was this girl here all along? I know why he kept his faun friend’s body, but why would he keep hers? He keeps only bodies for parts in the boxes. . . .

  What about mine, when he first found it? Did he keep me in a cold box once, too?

  “Kymera?” Father’s voice echoes down the stair, and my heart lurches into my throat. My palms continue to sweat in spite of the temperature as I drop the lid on the girl’s cold-box casket.

  “Down here, Father,” I say, keeping my voice light. I’m desperate to ask about the girl, but fear gnaws at my gut. Father didn’t want me to know. If he had, he would’ve told me. He kept it from me for a reason.

  But what could that reason be?

  “What are you doing?” He frowns. I slide my blue eyes into place and give him a shaky grin.

  “Looking for you. I must speak with you.” Despite the shock of finding the girl, I have not forgotten why I sought him in the first place.

  “Of course, my dear. Let us go sit by the fire.” He takes my arm and begins to lead me up the stairs. Does he not want me in his laboratory? I feel much less welcome now than the time I watched him make a new chicken.

  “Wait,” I say, pulling my arm out o
f his grasp. I take a deep breath and brace for Father’s anger. “I opened the cold boxes. I saw her. Why is that girl who died still here? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  For one second, Father’s face slips into an angry mask, but it’s gone before I even blink. “You should not play down here. There are dangerous, powerful things. I would not wish you to be hurt accidentally.” His cool fingers wrap around my shoulder, radiating numbness toward my head. “The girl is only here in case you need spare parts. But you will forget all about that.”

  “But I . . .” I struggle to hold on to the thread of conversation, but it slips from my mind like an eel through the river. What was I so concerned about a moment ago? I glance back down the stairs as Father leads me out of the tower. The usual boxes, stone table, and shelves filled with an array of gruesome jars look back, just as they ought.

  The unsettling feeling of something missing haunts every step I take away from the laboratory. I clench my hands in frustration, but Father won’t let me out of his grasp. If I could just go back down those stairs I might remember why.

  When we’re settled in our usual chairs, Father clears his throat. “Now, what did you wish to speak to me about?”

  I may not remember why I was upset in the laboratory, but I do know why I was looking for Father: to tell him about Ren. My hands are clasped so tightly in my lap that the tips of my fingers turn white.

  “I have something to confess,” I begin. “You will not like it.”

  Father raises an eyebrow. “That is not an auspicious beginning.”

  I swallow. “I spoke to that boy. Many times.”

  Father’s face pales, then reddens like my roses. “You what?” His hands grip the arms of his chair hard enough that I fear he will rip out the stuffing. “You disobeyed me?”

  My face matches his. “I’m sorry, Father. I didn’t intend to disobey you, but he was persistent and I was curious. I couldn’t help it. I have no one to talk to when I go into Bryre.”

  I have no one to talk to at all but you, I think, but refrain from saying. Father would keep me locked away like the fairy-tale princess trapped in her tower, alone and unaware of the outside world. But like her, I couldn’t resist the desire to break free.