Page 51 of A Mastery of Monsters

Riley doesn’t look surprised to see me on her doorstep later that week.

She just backtracks into her home and leaves the door open.

It’s different inside during the day without the partygoers.

Similarly to Sammie’s house, there’s an assortment of shoes in the entryway, but they’re neatly tucked into built-in compartments.

Riley leads me into the living area where I take a seat on the couch. There are two huge windows that overlook a small private garden in a side yard.

“Coffee?” she asks.

“Sure.” I rub my eyes, which have been drifting closed all day, only to be forced back open. I spent most of the night pouring over Jules’s invitation again, trying to find clues in the wording. I even held a flame under it, hoping to reveal hidden ink. There was nothing.

Riley goes over to an elaborate coffee station with a professional espresso machine, syrup pumps, matching white mugs, and shakers of labeled powders.

“Did you know my brother was a monster?” I ask.

“That’s a complicated question. Do you like foam? How much espresso?”

“What does that mean?”

Riley turns to me. “Like, what do you want? A latte? Macchiato? Cappuccino?”

“A latte, whatever.”

“Yeah, okay, get mouthy like I’m not making you a drink,” she says. “Concerning your brother, anything was possible. I cared more about whether he was a victim or a perpetrator.”

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“No, I guess not if Masters are involved.” The machine hums. Apparently even expensive things are noisy. “Hot or iced?”

“Hot. If he had anything to do with Sammie, it wasn’t by choice. My brother isn’t like that.”

He just needs help. This isn’t like Mom. I won’t be groping in the dark for months only to come up with nothing. I can get my brother back.

“But he had enough autonomy to write a goodbye note,” Riley says. “Flavoring?”

“Surprise me.” I stand from the couch. “I don’t know what to say to you. He got the same invitation as Sammie and that boy. I’m sorry she died. I don’t know why they got to liv—”

“He’s dead,” Riley says, her back still turned and working on the coffee.

I walk to the kitchen island, gripping the edge of the marble top. “What?”

“The guy we followed. Jacob. He was bitten. He died from it the same night.” She sticks a mug under the machine, pouring milk into a separate metal canister and heating it. “Of course, that meant I needed help, so now everything’s kind of fallen to shit. But your brother, he’s alive and well.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“It’s suspicious, is all.”

“You know what’s suspicious? Your magic powers, which I assume you got from an artifact that you conveniently never mentioned.”

The chain is back on her neck, looking out of place as usual.

I expected the artifacts Joseph Lawrence had to be statues or something.

Not jewelry. But what she did looked enough like magic that I can make the connection.

I know I said I’d have to see it to believe it, but I never thought I would be seeing it.

She says, “The artifacts aren’t any of your business. They were gifts from our founder.”

“Stolen gifts.”

Riley laughs and turns back to me, neglecting the steaming milk. “Wow, they got to you, eh? That organization was created by a white man, and yet you’re looking at our Black society and think we stole shit from them ? Because that’s historically how that goes, isn’t it?”

I swallow. I want to argue. To say that Joseph Lawrence is a traitor, but I don’t actually know that.

“Here’s something your little society won’t tell you.

Sure, Edward Weiss made space for people of color—celebrated them, even, which is a fuck ton more than a lot of white people did during his time—but only so long as they did what he wanted.

And when Joseph Lawrence decided to think for himself, he was dead to dear old Eddie. ”

She shakes her head and grabs my mug, pumping flavor into the coffee and stirring it around. She drops the milk and foam on top and sprinkles a delicate dusting of chocolate shavings on it. She slides the drink across the island to me.

“Thanks.” I take a sip. It’s good, because of course it is. “The monsters are looking for the artifacts, aren’t they? It’s the only reason they would be targeting QBSS.”

“Ding ding.”

“What exactly are these artifacts? No matter what you think, Jules doesn’t know anything about this stuff. It has to be the Master who wants them. But why?”

“Incorrect. Jules does know about them, which is exactly why he was targeted. Sammie knew, and Jacob knew too. Specifically, they know some of the locations where we hide artifacts. Ones that aren’t meant to be used day-to-day like my chain.

And if they’d made it to the next stage, they would have earned their own artifact.

” I open my mouth, and she raises a finger.

“Before you ask, I have no idea which one this person is looking for or why. If they wanted a weapon, they could take it from us. Kill people who are using the artifacts and steal them. Easy enough to spot because of that inane trend of putting gold in their mouths.”

I gape. “That’s what that is?!”

She sighs. “People who hold artifacts are required to donate bone to show their commitment. Historics like myself—” At my confused look, Riley adds, “People who have had at least three generations of QBSS members. We know to save our baby teeth. But people whose family weren’t members typically don’t have that information.

They get a fresh tooth pulled, and someone started a trend of capping the fake replacement with gold in honor of the artifacts, which are all cast in the same metal.

” She adds in a wry tone, “Even some Historics have taken up the trend. It looks cool, but it’s not exactly inconspicuous. ”

I shake my head. “What is up with these societies and cutting off pieces of your body?”

“As I was saying, if they wanted a weapon, they’d have their pick. But that clearly isn’t the aim. They want something specific. But they’re also not very smart. We would never tell newbies about the locations or existence of the powerful artifacts.”

“You can’t rattle a few and their abilities off? Maybe it’ll spark an idea. Or something you might have missed that I could catch.”

She peers at me. “Did you not hear me say we don’t even tell newbies that? I would be happy to tell you at least what they get to know if you were a member.”

I snort. “I thought you didn’t want me because I’m part of the society?”

“I’ve reconsidered. It could be helpful to have an insider. A mole, if you will. Also, I’ve been told that I need to get you to join.”

“Excuse me?”

“The president is now aware that you exist, that I brought you into this, and that the monster who bit and, perhaps inadvertently, but still very much killed a member, is your brother.”

I rear back from the island. “You told him about Jules?!”

She slams her palms on the island. “No, Jacob told him before he fucking died!”

I take a big gulp of the coffee and end up with a scalded tongue. “You need me to join to cover your ass.”

“I think you owe me that much. We found your brother, didn’t we?” She narrows her eyes. “And he killed my best friend.”

“You don’t know that. There are two monsters,” I say. “He hadn’t even run away when Sammie was murdered.”

“Fine. He’s only killed one person. Is that better?”

It’s cramped suddenly. In the space. In my head. Everywhere. It was bad enough to get boxed into the candidacy process and school. I spent so much time and effort smashing my way out of these tight spaces of crushing expectation. Clawing to freedom, just to be folded back in like this.

“No,” I say. “I’m not joining.”

“Don’t be a child. What do you think the Learners will do when they find out your brother is running wild like that? You think they’ll protect him or you? We’ll have your back.”

“But only if I do what you say, right?”

“Do you think this is a game?!” Riley’s voice is high and scattered.

“Fuck! You’re just like her. You would rather self-destruct than deal with a little hardship.

What do you think is waiting for you on their side?

I really want to know. Have those people actually done anything to help you?

Because I know they haven’t done more than I have.

But the second I ask you for something, you couldn’t care less. ”

“I’m leaving.” I turn to the front door.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Go! I’ll be right here to say I told you so when you come back.”

I stop and look at her over my shoulder. “How did that work out with Sammie? Did you get to say I told you so?”

Riley’s eyes water. “Get the fuck out of my house!”

“It’s your parents’ house!” I slam the front door behind me when I leave. Then I open it and slam it again, just to feel it.

In a university town, Thirsty Thursdays can be as busy as going out on a weekend.

There’s some sort of theme running at Ale House tonight, though I don’t pay attention to it as I attach myself to a group of girls and flash my stolen ID.

The bouncer asks us what we’re dressed as, and the girls rattle off names of singers that I vaguely recognize.

Eighties or nineties, I don’t know. But they supply a bunch of people who I could maybe be, and I roll with it.

The floor is sticky, stale sweat is the scent du jour, and the strobe lights make all my movements look out of sync.

I’m four doubles deep in five minutes. It might be a record.

I don’t have my job anymore, but I do have the credit card I was given for school and society-based purchases.

On the dance floor, I close my eyes and get lost in the music. My head empties and whenever a thought about Jules or Riley or Virgil comes up, I focus on the song instead. I sing though no one can hear me, the power of the speakers drowning us all out.

Here, I don’t have a dad who doesn’t care about me. I don’t have a missing mom. I don’t have a monstrous and murderous brother. It’s just me. Me, myself, and I.