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Paige’s jaw dropped open, and she narrowed her eyes. “Well, that’s uncalled for. You don’t have to insult me.”

“You’re being a bit thick.”

“I’m not. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I woke up with this. There’s no scary beast lurking around in my apartment. Oh, unless you count the monster under my bed.” Paige offered a coy glance with her eyebrows raised.

Dewey shook his head. “This isn’t a joke, Paige.” He flew toward her and spun her around. “This is a serious matter. This is the mark of the beast. You’ve been marked!”

Dewey placed his scaly paws against Paige’s back.

She winced, pulling away from him. “Ouch. Careful, that stings.”

“I’ve no doubt it does,” Dewey said. “It won’t heal unless it’s treated.”

Paige twisted her neck and slid her eyes sideways to glance at him. “What? Seriously?”

“Yes. It’ll continue to open and blister unless it’s treated with a special concoction.”

“Oh, great,” Paige moaned. “And I’m guessing they don’t sell this at the local drugstore.”

“You guessed right. But, lucky for you, I know exactly where to find the recipe, and I should be able to make this. Though I may need to send you out for a few things.”

“Like what?” Paige asked as she spun to watch him flit across his living space. “Moon dust? Tears of a unicorn?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Paige!” he called over his shoulder as he pushed through his door and disappeared over the railing into the stacks.

Paige scoffed as she slapped her thighs. “Don’t be ridiculous? Seriously? I’ve been marked by some beast, and it won’t heal unless treated with a special remedy, and I’m being ridiculous by suggesting outrageous ingredients.”

Paige strained her neck to try to glance at the wound on her back. She reached a hand behind her, wincing as her fingers touched the wound.

A sticky residue covered her fingers. She pulled her hand forward, studying it as she rubbed her thumb against her fingers. A yellow slime covered them. It stretched like hot cheese when she pulled her thumb away.

“Ugh,” she groaned as Dewey flew back into his nest, a large book in his paw.

He flopped it on the bar counter and tugged open the brass latch holding it shut.

“Let’s see,” he mumbled, flipping through the golden-trimmed pages. “Here we are. Beast-inflicted wounds.”

Paige rinsed her slimy fingers at the sink and dried her hands with a tea towel as Dewey flipped chunks of pages at a time until he found the entry he sought.

Decorative text and intricate drawings filled the page, and he ran a chubby teal finger down the words, mumbling incoherently as he scanned the text.

“Here we are. This should do.” He tapped his clawed digit on the page. “General purpose beast wound care.”

“General purpose?”

“Yes, we don’t know what kind of beast did this to you. Well, unless you can identify it.” He cut his gaze to her, waiting for her answer.

Paige stood in stunned silence for a moment before she finally shook her head and exclaimed, “No. Of course not. I thought it was my cat!”

“There’s nothing you can tell me about this at all?”

Paige squared her face as she concentrated, trying to bring any details to the forefront of her mind. She shook her head after a moment. “No, I–“

“What is it? Anything could help.”

“I woke up with it after having an odd dream. All I really remember is red eyes. They bore into me, and I felt something tearing at my flesh. When I woke up, I had a scratch, but it was just a dream. It may have no meaning.”

“Red eyes, hmmm,” Dewey murmured, scratching his chin with his claw. “Is there anything else you can remember? Think, Paige. It may make a difference.”