Monstrous (22 page)

I take Father's hand. “I understand. But I'm sure if you just went and talked to King Oliver, he would forgive you. We could accomplish even more together.”

He drops my hand. “It is out of the question. You do not know what you are suggesting.”

I remember Oliver's kind face, warm like Ren's but lined like Father's, too. I know exactly what I suggest.

“Why? Did he want to do something you did not? Or was it the other way around?”

“I am finished speaking on this matter. Is there anything else bothering you?” Father's face transforms to a hardened pallor. His falling out with the king must've been grave for him to get so upset about a mere question or two.

I blush. “Yes, Father.” So much bothers me that I can hardly find the words.

He groans and leans back in his chair with folded arms.

“Sometimes people talk about magic.” I hesitate—this one troubles me most. “I hear that we can't kill the wizard if we want to live. That whoever kills one will be burned
up by the magic that's released. Unless they're a dragon or another wizard.” I twist my hands together in my skirts. “But how can that be? Didn't you create me to kill him? That has always been our plan, hasn't it?”

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?

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.