Page 15

“Will it help them?” I cradled the pasty pixies in my arms like tiny triplets. After leaving Victoria’s office, there had only been one place my recovering self wanted to go: the Repository. I knew I’d be back to full health soon, but I had no idea how things might pan out for my beloved creations. I mean, I knew they were capable of dying—I’d seen enough of their kind fall, protecting me from the Wisps—but it was impossible to think of losing these three. They’d become such a huge part of my life. That didn’t take away from the other losses I’d experienced, but it was different after a strong bond had developed. It would devastate me.

Nathan squeezed the top of a dropper, forcing a vibrant pink liquid to shoot down the pipette’s tube into an elegant, green glass bottle shaped like a leaf. “I hope so,” he said. “This is a powerful regenerative tonic, which I developed myself.” He stared at the liquid. “I had some help in the developmental stages, but the recipe is mostly my own.”

“You’re quite the chef.” Genie cast him a shy smile, and he smiled back, pleased. I didn’t get the inside joke, but perhaps I wasn’t meant to. I felt as though I were on the outside of something, looking in, even though I knew it was silly to think that way. Genie had promised it would always be sisters before misters, but damn, were there some fireworks flying, and those two idiots didn’t even seem to realize.

Nathan flashed her a grin. “Can I expect that apron in the post, then?”

“Already ordered.” Genie nudged his ribs and, instead of stepping away again, she stayed close. Like she’d used her playfulness as a subconscious excuse to be nearer to him.

What else did I miss last night? I longed to be allowed into this private realm that was developing between the two of them, but Boudicca’s big black eyes drew my attention back to the pixies. She looked so mournful, drained of her usual vibrancy. Whatever my abductor had done to them, they were suffering because they’d tried to protect me. And that hurt far worse than any residual pains I was feeling.

“Can you give them the tonic now?” I asked, a note of impatience in my voice.

Nathan shook his head, like someone had just doused him in icy water, and said, “Of course. Apologies.” He lifted the dropper to Boudicca’s lips first, but she clamped them shut. “I need you to open your mouth. It’ll help, I promise.”

Boudicca folded her arms across her chest and sniffed the pipette dramatically, wrinkling her tiny nose in disgust. Unfortunately for her, as she opened her mouth to pretend to vomit, Nathan squirted the pink liquid into her mouth. Thinking quickly, I pinched her little nose and held her mouth closed, forcing her to swallow it and ignoring her furious glare. Once the tonic had gone down, I snatched my hand away as she went in for a bite.

“I’m sorry, but I need you to get better!” I protested, as she flew into a tirade of pixie curses. “Nobody likes taking medicine, I know. Yes, I’m a terrible person, but you’ll thank me when you don’t feel like death warmed over anymore.”

She pouted and twisted around in the nook of my arm, sulking. But I smiled as the subtlest hints of blue and red and green filtered back into her pale skin, like someone had dabbed her gently with watercolor. Seeing her color reappear, Cynane and Spartacus lay back in my arms and opened their mouths wide, eager for the tonic. Nathan dropped the liquid onto their tongues while Boudicca gave them a cursory scowl each, as if to say, “traitors.” I took that as a sign that she was already feeling a bit more like herself.

“So, what did Victoria say to you?” Nathan asked as he stoppered the tonic and set it on a small metal ledge beside the pixies’ orb.

“I thought it’d be days before she called you in,” Genie said. “Any juicy gossip on this Veritas thing?”

“Nothing. I told her everything, and in return I was told to mind my business. That’s basically it.” I sighed, gazing down at the pixies like they were my babies. Spartacus stretched out his arms and tried to slip one around Cynane’s shoulders, getting a swift headbutt for his sneaky efforts. He yelped and cowered into the crook of my elbow, where he pretended to fall asleep, feigning an overenthusiastic snore.

“She didn’t say a word about witch hunters?” Genie asked, eyeing Nathan. “How do you know about them, if Victoria isn’t spilling the beans?”

Nathan shrugged. “I don’t know much, to be honest. I’ve heard about them in passing— small groups of anti-magicals who document magical sightings and that kind of thing. They’re mostly conspiracy theorists, and they’re always dealt with pretty quickly if they step over any lines. Mind-wiping and the like. But they’ve never targeted anyone like this before. Not that I know of, anyway.”

“Why did you suggest it might be them, then?” I pressed.

“You mentioned the person who took you wasn’t a magical, but he knew an awful lot about you. The moment I heard ‘non-magical,’ my mind went to witch hunters. Besides, your surname is known even in non-magical circles, regardless of whether they know that the bloodline is still alive and as powerful as it was in Arthurian times. Your family is a living legend. If this guy thought a magical could help him out, you would be top of his ‘power’ list, especially if he’d witnessed a Purge as he claimed. That looks like a superpower, even if the truth is slightly different.”

“I just wish I’d gotten his name. Know thine enemy and all,” I muttered. Looking down, I saw that Boudicca had actually gone to sleep in my arms, with Cynane cuddled beside her. They deserved a good rest after everything they’d done. Though I kept wondering what might’ve happened if I’d heeded Boudicca a moment sooner, and not wandered toward the bushes. Could I have outrun that fiery-eyed devil, or would he have caught me anyway?

Genie punched her fist into her palm. “Someone needs to let him know it’s almost lunchtime, and I’ve got a knuckle sandwich waiting for him.”

I laughed. “I guess desperation makes people do insane things.”

“Maybe, but kidnapping and threatening my best friend isn’t on the approved list.” Genie’s mouth set in a determined line. “If he needed your help, he should’ve asked in a civil manner.”

“That’s what I told him,” I agreed. “But he just looked at me like I’d suggested he ask the president for a handout.”

Nathan frowned. “Like he’s been taught to think of magicals as the worst of humanity, people who wouldn’t raise a finger to help him even if he was dying in the street.”

“Right?” I remembered the shock on his face in the fishery, when I’d told him we weren’t averse to helping out non-magicals. Followed by the utter venom he’d spewed at me, claiming we were “all the same.” Whoever he was, and whatever group he belonged to, I felt certain there was some brainwashing in his past.

Just then, Nathan’s phone pinged. He took it out of his pocket and sucked in a sharp breath. “Charlotte’s on her way! Get the pixies back in their orb!”

“What?” I spluttered.

“They finally caught your Grendel.” Nathan opened up the iris of the orb and beckoned frantically. I hurried forward and tipped the pixies into the orb, where they landed with an unceremonious plop on the glass bottom. It jolted all three out of their peaceful slumber, prompting them to jump at the glass and bang on it in annoyance.

My cheeks reddened with heat. “Sorry, guys.”

Spartacus round-housed the inside of the orb, while Cynane blew a loud raspberry and Boudicca shook her fist. Clearly, they were feeling sprightly again.

With the pixies back inside their orbs, Nathan, Genie, and I raced over to the seats by the window and tried to pretend we hadn’t been doing anything suspicious. Nathan flipped through a book he’d pored over all night, unaware that he was holding it upside down until Genie lunged forward and flipped it right-side up. I picked up a cold cup of coffee and tried not to balk at the intense espresso smell. I was always uber-sensitive after a big Purge, though the effect usually went away after a few days. Meanwhile, Genie took out her phone and pretended to swipe through it nonchalantly.

A few minutes later, Charlotte entered with a puzzle box in her hands. I almost dropped my coffee at the sight of her. One of her eyes was swollen shut, her hunter’s blazer was ripped to shreds, and most of her visible skin was covered in an angry crosshatch of scratches.

“Hey, a little help over here? I know Persie has an excuse for resting up, but the same doesn’t go for you two.” Charlotte brandished the puzzle box, the engravings glowing a faint sea green. She looked like I felt. “Thanks for cooking up one of the nastiest pieces of work I’ve encountered in a long time, by the way.” Her one good eye turned to me.

I offered her a sheepish shrug. “Sorry. I don’t really get much say in what comes out.”

“And I thought you were supposed to be the toughest cookie out there?” Genie cut in, giving a low whistle. “It looks like the Grendel beat seven shades of sugar out of you. How does the other guy look?”

To my surprise, Charlotte laughed. “It tested my hunting prowess, that’s for sure. And the Grendel is annoyingly unscathed, despite my team hurling everything we had at it. I had to pull out some of my best moves to subdue it.”

“You turned into a bear again, huh?” Genie smirked. She’d been crazy jealous that she hadn’t witnessed that transformation with her own eyes and had died laughing when I’d told her about the horse incident. But I’d sworn Genie to secrecy about that, and she’d never yet revealed a secret outside of our duo.

“Dragon, actually,” Charlotte said proudly.

Genie’s jaw dropped. “You’re pulling my leg.”

“I guess that’s something you’ll never find out.” Charlotte grinned and waved the puzzle box again. “Now, help me get this in an orb so I can get my ass to the Infirmary. If any of this permanently scars, I’m going to blame you, Persie.” She gestured to her injured face, but her tone wasn’t exactly unfriendly. We’d come a long way since our first days of hostility, growing into “almost” friends.

Nathan jumped up and took the box out of Charlotte’s hands. I watched him carefully select an orb, one of the biggest in the Repository. It was more of a huge room than an orb—more than double his height and about twelve feet wide in every direction. He touched his hand to the glass and opened up an iris, then unlocked the puzzle box and let the black mist pour inside.

Was he okay? Was he hurt? I padded over to the orb just as my Grendel materialized. The moment he set his bright green eyes on me, he flopped down onto all fours and scurried up to the glass, tail swishing like a happy puppy. I smiled as I put my hand out, and the huge beast tried to nuzzle into my palm through the orb. A puzzled look came into his eyes as he nudged the glass over and over, frustrated that he couldn’t get closer. A soft whine escaped his throat as he butted his head gently against the interior, and when he lifted his head again, two crystalline tears steaked down his enormous cheeks. He licked where he should’ve been able to feel my hand, his quiet, confused whine breaking my heart. I felt his sadness brimming in my chest, bringing tears to my own eyes. He wanted to feel human touch, but there would always be a pane of glass in the way. How was I supposed to explain that to this creature, after he’d leapt to my defense? He probably thought he was being punished and didn’t understand why.

“Looks like you got yourself a big, scaly boyfriend.” Charlotte chuckled as she came to observe. She pointed at her swollen eye. “You act all sweet now, huh, after you did this to my face?”

The Grendel snapped his jaws at her, but she didn’t even flinch. She had nothing to be afraid of. My Purge was imprisoned. Besides, I knew she was the sort of person to take pride in her injuries. She would wear them like a badge of honor until the medics healed them.

“You probably spooked him.” My voice hitched as he turned back to me, bumping miserably into the glass and staring at me, willing me to release him. I stroked my hand across the glass and tried to imagine the softness of his tufty fur, hoping he understood that I wanted to stroke him for real. That I didn’t want this fate for him.

Charlotte snorted. “Have you seen the size of him? I doubt anything could spook him.” She banged her knuckles against the orb, and I resisted the urge to shove her away. The noise and vibration sent my Grendel jumping back in alarm, where he dropped flat to the ground and rested his head between his forelegs. “You’re not fooling anyone, monster,” Charlotte continued. “You might act like a big, harmless pet around Persie, here, but you were ready to bite off a bunch of heads not so long ago.”

Wouldn’t you, if you thought your life was in danger? I bit my tongue and tried to keep the Grendel’s eyes on me. I didn’t have the telepathic abilities that Leviathan had, using me as a monster cell tower to hear what other creatures were saying, but the Grendel’s face said it all. All I wanted to do was talk to him… but what could I have said? “Sorry about this. I know it’s going to suck, but you’re going to be sent off to an even bigger, badder version of where you are now, and you’ll spend the rest of your life fueling the magical world. It’ll be a comfortable prison, though, so you can blind yourself with that silver lining.” I struggled to hold back my tears as the Grendel shuffled forward and nosed the glass in front of me. I crouched down and put both palms to the orb, hoping he knew how sorry I really was.

Charlotte dusted off her hands triumphantly. “Right, that’s a job well done, I’d say. Took longer than I hoped, but we got there in the end. Now, I’m off to get this eye depuffed. I’ll probably see you all later if you aren’t lazing about, enjoying your Saturday afternoon while the rest of us are hard at work.” She smiled and gave the Grendel a mock salute before turning on her heels to exit.

“Wait!” I shot up, realizing I might not get this opportunity again. She was in a good mood after capturing the Grendel, and I knew that could make her more amenable to telling tales.

Charlotte turned back. “What’s up?”

“I was just curious about the guy who abducted me. Do you have any more leads on where he might be?” I blurted out. “I don’t know if you remember me saying yesterday, but he mentioned something called ‘Veritas.’ Do you know anything about them?”

Charlotte’s entire demeanor shifted from buoyed up to clammed up in two seconds flat. “We don’t have any new leads at the moment. As for Veritas, it could be anything, so I wouldn’t waste energy thinking about it. There are groups with all sorts of snazzy names all over the world, but they’re usually just wackos who believe in lizard people and stuff like that. Victoria will know where to look and how to proceed, so leave it in her hands.” I eyed her—the forced casualness in her voice couldn’t make up for her shifty body language.

You sound just like Victoria… Clearly, this was the party line. I felt like I was banging on a closed door, begging to be let in, but I didn’t have the credentials. I wished I could just forget about my abductor, but I hadn’t been able to. And until he was found, or named, or dealt with, I knew I wouldn’t be able to rest easy.

“I’m… trying,” I replied quietly.

Charlotte stepped forward and put her hands on my shoulders. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you went through, Persie. Honestly, I didn’t think you’d be out of bed for a week, and I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d hidden away.” She sighed. “But you don’t have to be tough for toughness’s sake. You don’t have to carry the weight on your own. The weight of your name. The expectations. I get it, more than most people would. That’s why I’m giving you this advice: leave it to the experts and try not to get into any more trouble, because there are only so many emotional hits a person can take before it starts to change who they are. There’s a reason why lone wolves never last as long as the pack.”

I met her gaze. “I will.” I could see the sympathy in her good eye. We both had our legacies to fulfill, and reaching for those lofty heights could make people like us climb too high before we were ready. And we all knew what had happened to Icarus.

“Trust in the people around you, okay? We’re all on the same side.” Charlotte gave my shoulder a squeeze before finally leaving. This time, I didn’t stop her. She’d basically repeated what Victoria had said, but in a way I could stomach: if I kept acting out, going rogue, it would only get me kicked out… or worse.

With Charlotte gone, Genie came over and put her arm around me. “She should think about a career in politics. I bet she could sell a lamp to a djinn.”

“You don’t believe her?” I peered up at my friend, my heart heavy.

“No, I do… so maybe not politics. Maybe public speaking.” Genie hugged me to her side. “Sometimes, it’s not that we’re incapable, it’s just that our battles are too big for us to fight alone.”

I laughed. “I’m not sure there’s anyone you couldn’t take down.”

“Him, for one.” Genie tipped her head at my Grendel. “Although he’s kinda cute, in a massive, ugly dog sort of way.”

I bet she could sell a lamp to a djinn… Flaming eyes sparked to life in my memory, glinting in vivid flashback. The fine hairs on my forearms prickled, as if reliving the heat that had emanated from my abductor in his monster form. He hadn’t been a djinn, in the end, but Genie’s words poked at something in the back of my mind, albeit in a delayed reaction. Nathan had worked all night to figure out what was wrong with the pixies. Maybe there was something in his books that related to my abductor, a detail he might’ve missed, since he was looking for the cure and not the cause.

Breaking out of Genie’s embrace, I rushed over to the stack of books on the coffee table. “Nathan, how did you figure out that you had to use that tonic?”

“I remembered seeing a similar effect somewhere.” He took off his glasses as he walked over, wiping them on his T-shirt, which meant he was deep in thought. “I referred to some texts on ‘ripple curses.’ As in, they ripple out of the source, to cause harm to those around them. The distance normally isn’t far—a few feet or so.”

“That’s why he growled. He needed us to come closer,” I thought aloud, grabbing the nearest book and flicking through the pages. “Which book did you look at?”

Nathan nodded. “The one in your hand.”

“What’s going on?” Genie sat in the chair opposite and leaned forward intently. “Did you remember something?”

“Not exactly, but I need to know what damage this guy can do when he’s turned monster.” I scanned the index for the “ripple curse” chapter and flipped to it, then ran my eyes across the page until I found what I was looking for. “Here!”

Nathan looked over my shoulder, putting his glasses back on. “What?”

“It’s a list of monsters capable of these curses.” I prodded a finger at two words that leapt from the page: Far Darrig. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Chaos help me, how could I have missed that?” he gasped. “Yes, I believe so. That’s the anglicized spelling of ‘Fear Dearg.’ I’m such an idiot—I only looked at how the effects of such curses could be remedied. I must’ve been too tired to notice the connection.”

I read the section, my heart hammering:

The ‘Far Darrig’

Also referred to as the ‘Red Man’ or ‘Rat Boys’—these are creatures of legend, for the most part, capable of crippling any living being with pure terror. They are known to bring nightmares into the waking world. There have been reports of them replacing babies with changelings; however, such incidents are widely disputed. They are malevolent and mischievous phantoms, though the red cap and coat of legend—the features that have given this being the moniker of ‘Red Man’—are thought to be a misinterpretation or a false memory left behind in victims. Those who have not succumbed to the dread-inducing influence of the Far Darrig have described them as beings of red mist and flaming eyes, the tumbling mist resembling a flowing, hooded cape that trails in every direction. It is thought that the cape may be an allusion to the red coat and cap, though unaltered accounts are difficult to find.

When other bestial forms are touched by the Far Darrig’s Chaos, many side effects have been observed: insanity, mood swings, violent behavior, lethargy, amnesia, and blindness. Some Far Darrig have been known to drain victims of their energy sources.

My heart lurched as the pieces slotted together. With dread sinking into the pit of my stomach, I kept reading, aloud this time. “These monsters are designated threat level indigo on the Eyles Scale. What does that mean?”

Nathan let out a sigh. “Holden Eyles is a famed monster researcher, known for ranking monsters by the perceived danger of their unique abilities. It’s how we gauge the potential risk when sending hunters out into the field. He used the rainbow to categorize, with red being the lowest threat level and indigo being the highest. It’s a Geiger counter for monsters.”

“‘Although the Far Darrig usually prefer to toy with victims using mental influence,’” I carried on, a cold sweat tingling at the back of my neck, “‘they have been known to utilize physical attacks, by means of concentrated blasts of energy. It is not known what result such attacks may have, as only one individual has ever survived. Saoirse O’Connell, attacked on May 21st, 1987, in Donegal, Ireland. She was found and transferred to a secure magical facility, where diagnostics showed she was only 25 years old. This news shocked the supervising physicians, as she had the body and mind of an 80-year-old suffering from advanced dementia. She died just two years later, unable to remember her own name, only the creature that had attacked her.’”

Hands shaking, I glanced at Genie and Nathan. “I think we know why the pixies got sick.”

“He drained them,” Genie said, horrified. “What if…” She didn’t need to finish the sentence.

I nodded slowly, looking to the pixies, all three of whom had given up their fist-shaking and fallen fast asleep. “But how can this guy be one? Is it possible to curse someone into becoming a monster? It doesn’t say anything here about transforming into humans, and he claimed he hadn’t always been like that.” I rubbed the back of my neck to wipe away the cold, nasty feeling. “I thought Purge beasts had to be created by a magical—like, in a birthed sense.”

“I’ll have to delve deeper into it,” Nathan replied, his face gray with worry. “It’s not something I’ve come across before, so I may have to look into some less-than-savory books. But we’ll to get to the bottom of this. I just hope he’s not as dangerous as his ‘birthed’ counterparts.”

“You think he might not be?” That particular thought hadn’t crossed my mind.

Nathan shrugged. “I don’t know. For all of our sakes, let’s hope it’s been watered down somewhat.”

I knew what he was thinking, and I could see the same fear reflected on Genie’s face. If my kidnapper was that much of a threat, and a Fear Dearg could waste a person away with a direct blast, what damage could that guy have done to me if the Grendel hadn’t saved the day when he had? Would I have survived, like Saoirse? If you could even call that surviving. Would I have been in a hospital bed right now, aged sixty-plus years in a single night?