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Isettled in for a solitary remainder of the afternoon, with no one but my books and my monsters for company. Persie’s discovery had unsettled me greatly, all the more so because I’d overlooked such valuable information. I blamed the sleepless night I’d spent trying to find anything to aid the pixies, so absorbed in my work that I hadn’t even noticed the sky turning from night to hazy dawn to full daylight. I couldn’t believe I’d been so solely focused on the pixies’ recovery that I truly hadn’t noticed a simple spelling alteration of the same phonetics. For a scientist and researcher like me, it wasn’t my proudest moment.

The Grendel had obviously taken a great deal out of Persie. She’d looked as pale and drained as the pixies, and one needed only to look at her latest Purge to understand why. He was as majestic as he was gigantic, though the poor thing hadn’t stopped whining since Persie had left with Genie a half-hour ago. Persie had tried to insist on staying to help me research the Fear Dearg, but Genie had wrangled her into going back to the residential quarters to get some kip—or a nap, as they called it in America.

“I’m sorry, chum,” I told our latest arrival. He peered mournfully at me, his tail unmoving, all enthusiasm for life evaporated. From my observations, I’d come to learn that Purge beasts reacted in four different ways to being put inside glass boxes: some didn’t care at all, already resigned to the whims of fate or not bright enough to understand; some showed fear through violence or a refusal to eat; some tried to escape, which might’ve been the most upsetting of all because such an endeavor was, ultimately, futile; and the fourth set of newcomers tended to get very quiet or very sad as they realized the enormity of what was happening to them. True, they might not have fully understood the endgame, but they were aware that life as they knew it had come to an end. And the Grendel fell into the fourth category.

The Grendel buried his head deeper into the dip between his forelegs, his ears bent backward like a frightened animal. All the while, he whined for Persie, his heartbreak evident. In truth, that had startled me more than any other reaction. Bonds could, obviously, develop between humans and Purge beasts, but I’d never seen one develop this quickly or with such intensity—not to mention the fact that he had charged to Persie’s defense within moments of being created.

“Remarkable,” I said, to no one at all.

“He is, isn’t he?” The voice jolted me out of my personal thoughts. I turned sharply in my chair to find Genie standing in the middle of the Repository, two paper cups of coffee in her hands. She raised one. “I thought you could use some of the good stuff, since you’re apparently trying to break the world record for consecutive sleepless nights.”

I stared at her in silence, my mind too slow and foggy to come up with a witty retort.

She smiled and walked closer. “Yeah, you definitely need this.”

“I thought you’d gone to get some rest?” I managed to say.

She handed me the coffee, which I accepted with a grateful sigh. “It’s a little-known fact, but Atlanteans don’t need a lot of sleep. Anyway, I got plenty after we came back last night.” Her fingertips tapped the side of her cup, revealing some latent nerves. “I just didn’t want Persie to feel like she was being coddled, that’s all. If I’d stayed, she’d have dug in her heels, and… I’m worried about her, Nathan. I hate when she’s suffering like this, and I can’t do anything except tuck her in and make sure she stays in bed. If I could wring Leviathan’s stupid, fishy neck for what he’s done to her, I would. And I want to tie that kidnapper up, drop him in the ocean, and summon a kraken to eat him.”

I sensed that this outburst of bitterness had been brewing for a while, and I felt honored that she’d chosen me to talk to. Persie was her be-all end-all, and I supposed people forgot that Genie wasn’t superhuman. She felt things keenly, despite her tough fa?ade.

“You do more to help her than you know. You’re her support, and her cheerleader, and her best friend. It might feel like you’re not doing enough, but you are, and more,” I assured. “As for Leviathan and the kidnapper, they’d better be quaking in their boots, praying they never cross paths with you.”

She sipped her coffee. “I guess I’d let Leviathan live.” Her gaze drifted toward the window, where the Irish summer had turned damp, the rain spitting against the glass. “Persie seems to like her ability more than she hates it, these days. And when you look at what she creates, you can see why. They love her as much as she loves them. I just wish these big ones didn’t take so much out of her, you know? It doesn’t seem fair that most of us magicals can use up a whole ton of power and maybe deal with one Purge every once in a while, and with a pretty quick recovery. But she’s expected to do it weekly.”

“At least they’re fewer and farther between now. She could still be dealing with daily Purges or multiple weekly Purges.” It wasn’t much consolation, but I didn’t know what else to say. “Now they’re mostly just once a week, and usually small. And she has a fairly impeccable history of control and capture.”

Genie sighed. “And there’s the rub.”

“What do you mean?” I got out of my chair and inched toward her.

“She doesn’t want them in captivity. It’s the cruelest game anyone could play. Like, here’s this ability that’s going to make you adore the beings you create—except those banshees, Chaos, I live in fear of her Purging those—but you’re going to have to hand them off as soon as you make them, knowing they’ll think you’re punishing them and that they’ll be exploited as fuel. Yeah, so they’ll probably hate you after that. It’s so friggin’ cruel, Nathan.” She gripped her cup until I thought it might crack. Gently, I reached out and took it from her.

“We can sow the change, remember, even if we’re not here to watch the seeds grow.”

She hurriedly turned her face away, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve. “I know that’s true, and I know Persie believes that. I just worry about what it’ll do to her, in the long run. What if the guilt gets to be too much?”

“That’s why she has you.” I wanted to put my arms around her, or take her hand, or wipe away her tears, but I didn’t. “Don’t you find it odd that you were the one with her mum on the day she found out she was pregnant? You’ve been with Persie all her life, even when she was in the womb. Again, I don’t want to sound like an advocate for fate, or I might get thrown out of the scientists’ circle, but you two were destined to be in each other’s lives for a reason.”

She glanced back shyly. “Thank you.”

“What for? You’re the one who brought coffee.”

She chuckled, her laughter catching in her throat. “For listening. I can get a bit ranty when Persie’s having a hard time. I usually scream into a pillow or something, so this is a refreshing change.” Her walls had gone back up.

“My ears are all yours, whenever you need.” I wiggled them backward and forward like a hippo. It was something I’d always been able to do, though I’d discovered as a kid that not all people could, like curling your tongue.

She laughed, as I’d hoped she would. “How are you doing that?”

“A family secret.” I grinned and gestured toward the orbs. “So, what brought you back here? I know you didn’t want to rest, but surely there are more exciting things to do on a Saturday afternoon?”

“After last night’s adventures, I just want peace and quiet,” she replied. “I thought I could help you out. Feeding, taking notes, whatever. Otherwise I’ll get stuck watching reruns of crappy TV shows in my room, and the whole weekend will disappear. It’s my best magic trick.”

I frowned. “No, I think tha would be your invisibility trick. I still haven’t recovered.”

“So a little pixie keeps telling me.” She winked, and my stomach plummeted. It was my job to watch the monsters, but evidently they’d been watching me in return. Oh, the absolute shame of being caught by a trio of naughty pixies.

“It seems like you’re gaining more interest in the monsters.” I glossed over the embarrassing subject, hoping she wouldn’t stick with it.

Thankfully, she nodded. “Between you and Persie, I didn’t have much choice but to learn to like them.” She reached out for her coffee. “I swear I won’t crush it and spill all over your lovely clean floors.”

I handed it back. “Thank you. They might look easy to wipe clean, but it’s a pain in the arse to get stains out.”

“You’re a man of many domestic layers, Nathan O’Hara.” She wandered to the Grendel enclosure, peering down at him. “Why does he look so miserable? Do you think Charlotte secretly beat the crap out of him?”

I joined her by his glass. “Grendels are actually very sensitive creatures. In mythology, they’re described as creatures of darkness who were exiled from happiness, doomed to live a cursed existence as the destroyers and devourers of humankind. But that was actually a mistranslation from the Anglo-Saxon epic—or, rather, a misinterpretation. Either that, or Beowulf used it as an excuse to kill one of them.” I laughed, but Genie looked at me as though I’d grown a second head. That joke usually went over better in literary circles. As such, I quickly carried on. “They’re essentially empaths, and they devour human emotion, not flesh. Not unless they’re particularly peckish.”

This time, she laughed. “I love that word. Peckish. You almost get a British accent when you use colloquialisms.”

“I hope not. My mum would go mad.”

She arched a curious eyebrow. “Why?”

“Well, ‘British’ tends to refer to Great Britain, which is Scotland, England, and Wales. The UK is all of those plus Northern Ireland. Ireland is Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland, and the British Isles encompasses all of those places, but don’t call us Republic of Ireland lot British, and never call a Scot English,” I explained. If anyone referred to Marcel as English, he’d have them in a chokehold in two seconds flat. I shrugged. “The make-up of which countries belong to the UK, Great Britain, and the British Isles is… complex, and people can be sensitive about it.”

She grinned. “And I thought Atlantis had problems.”

“Anyway, where was I?” I ran an anxious hand through my hair. “Ah, that’s right. Grendels don’t devour emotions in the sense that they leave nothing behind. They relieve humans of their most painful emotions by taking them into themselves. I imagine that has something to do with this Grendel’s sadness. That, and not being able to get close to Persie,” I explained. “As for the destroyer part, they struck deals in the olden days to protect the borderlands of different regions and settlements, such as Mercia, Northumbria, and Mrazonnia, during the Anglo-Saxon period. I guess that, given their size, they were a good deterrent, even though they’re not natural-born killers. If you’re a pig, you might disagree, though. Grendels like pork.”

She snickered. “Have you got a whole side of pork hidden in your study?”

“I’m afraid it’s just protein cubes.” I gestured to a stack of cardboard boxes stacked at the back of the Repository.

“Ugh, no wonder he’s depressed.” I knew it was a joke, but her eyes lingered on the Grendel, her fingertips grazing the glass sadly. “Didn’t you say they were venomous?”

I nodded, pleased that she’d remembered. “They are, but they use that mostly to liquify their food before they eat it. Although, if pushed, I imagine they would use it to defend themselves.” It made me wonder why this one hadn’t tried to sink its venomous fangs into the hunters who’d captured him. If he had, he might’ve escaped. Had he behaved, to an extent, because of Persie? Or was this one born, as I’d just told Genie, without a killer instinct, even when his life was in danger?

“There goes my appetite.” Genie grimaced. “Lucky for the Grendel, I don’t imagine those protein cubes need much liquifying.”

“No, probably not. It’s the monster equivalent of rice pudding.” I led her away from the Grendel and over to the pixie trio, who were in need of a second dose of tonic. In the initial stage of their recovery, they needed more every few hours. They lolled about at the bottom of the orb like overstuffed emperors at a feast, though they perked up as we approached. “Can you hold the pixies for me while I dropper the liquid into their mouths?”

She nodded excitedly. “No problem. Just call me Genie Vertis, pixie wrangler.”

“Hopefully, Boudicca will be more cooperative this time.” I opened the iris and, without any encouragement, the pixies roused from their bored stupor and flew out. Cynane made a beeline for Genie’s shoulder, taking a lock of her silver hair and wrapping it around her face. She made cooing sounds, stroking the hair as if it belonged to her. Boudicca followed, perching on Genie’s head while glaring at me. Not wanting to be the odd one out, Spartacus fluttered down onto Genie’s spare shoulder and sat, swinging his legs like a kid on a swing. “Let’s go for Spartacus first.”

The pixie draped himself sideways over Genie’s shoulder, mouth open wide like I was feeding him grapes at a Roman feast. After swallowing the tonic, he unleashed an almighty burp that made Genie giggle. Cynane went next, emitting a satisfied sigh as the liquid went down. But Boudicca remained obstinate, putting up her little fists like we were going to box by Queensbury rules.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s making you feel better! You know this.”

She chirruped in protest, wafting her hand in front of her nose and making those charming retching sounds again. Only, this time, she was too far away for me to get the tonic in her mouth while she was busy playing charades.

Quick as a flash, Genie’s hand shot out and grasped Boudicca, bringing her within my reach. The pixie struggled and threatened to take a bite out of Genie’s fingers, but Genie held on. After all, Boudicca couldn’t disappear into black mist with the ring around her ankle; an unnecessary restraint which had, suddenly, become a little more necessary. Feeling like a vet with a savage cat on the table, I held Boudicca’s jaw open as gently as I could and dropped the tonic in, pinching her nose and keeping her mouth shut to stop her from spitting it back out. Which she absolutely would have done.

“You can fly around for a bit,” I offered by way of an apology. “I know it tastes horrible, but it’s healing you.”

Boudicca glowered at me and covered her heart with her hand. Then, with a menacing scowl, she clamped her hand into a fist. Apparently, I’d broken her heart by trying to help her. All I could do was hope she’d forgive me when her color came back and her lights were glowing at full capacity again. She flew straight back into her orb and turned her back to the glass, sulking. Following their leader, Cynane and Spartacus did the same, saving me the job of trying to get them back inside later. Boudicca had certainly cut off her nose to spite her face, giving up free flying time for the sake of her stubbornness.

I closed the iris again and turned to find Genie much closer than she’d been before. Breathtakingly close. My senses were overwhelmed by the scent of her. Before I could stop myself, I reached out to readjust the tangle of hair that Cynane had created. I smoothed it down until it was flat, my hand pausing for a moment on her cheek. My gaze flitted toward her lips, which parted ever so slightly. Swallowing, I looked back to her eyes, silently asking permission to kiss those lips. Her hand reached up to cover mine, answering my question with a subtle “yes.”

Slowly, I leaned in… only for an obnoxious smacking sound to whip my attention away. Boudicca had her lips to the glass, smooching the surface in the most horrifying way, waggling her tongue all around. Beside her, Spartacus had his back to me, his hands rubbing up and down his sides as he wiggled his bare pixie behind. And Cynane wolf-whistled, cackling raucously between sharp bursts of sound. As fond as I was of these pixies, I wished I’d put the silencing spell on their orb.

Talk about a huge pin in the bubble of our budding romance.

“They’re suckers for comedic timing, huh? That’s the second time I’ve lost my appetite today.” Genie chuckled nervously as she retreated a couple of steps. “So… uh… are your parents into this monster stuff? I bet they’re proud of you.”

I froze, focusing on the orb, all thoughts of that almost-kiss dispersing. I realized she’d used “parents” and “they” without thinking, judging by the sudden look of remorse on her face like she wanted to stuff the words back into her mouth. “My mum always reads my papers,” I answered regardless. “As for my dad… who knows what he thinks. I doubt he even knows what I do, to be honest.” My tone came out brusquer than I wanted, and I noticed her expression soften.

“Chaos, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to say ‘parents.’ It just slipped out. I know you don’t like talking about your family much, especially your dad. I don’t know why I asked, when you’ve already explained.” She scuffed her shoe against the marble. “I guess it’s the only part of me that’s staunchly Atlantean. It’s an important thing in my culture, to know about other people’s families and stuff. But I can shut up, if you want me to. I don’t want you to think I’m nosey or anything.”

Other people’s families? Did she mean all people, or did she mean the families of potential romantic interests? If it was the latter, then we were in trouble before we’d even started. And perhaps, though I hated to even think it, it was better that we hadn’t had our moment. I felt my own walls starting to go up, brick by brick. My defense mechanisms were stronger than any urge I might have had to tell the truth—even my affection for her couldn’t change that. Already, I could feel all of the comfort that had blossomed between us dissipating, the warmth replaced by a stilted awkwardness.

“There’s just… not much to tell. My mum is my only parent, as far as I’m concerned. She loves what I do, and that’s enough for me.” It wasn’t enough, and I knew it. I could read it on her face. I saw her curiosity shift toward guilt and embarrassment for having broached the subject in the first place. The last thing I wanted was for her to feel bad. I just wanted to rewind the clock by five minutes, put a silencing spell on the pixies’ orb, and kiss her. If I could do that, maybe I could block out the shadows that loomed over my past. Maybe I could make them not matter.

Genie cleared her throat. “You should recommend some more monster books to Persie.” Her voice sounded stiff as she blatantly changed the subject. “Maybe go over that journal of hers again, too, to see if there’s a pattern or an order to things that you might’ve missed. I’m going to help her out with the fitness stuff, in case that does something to help her recover more quickly. But if you could help out with the monster stuff, I know she’d appreciate it.” She flashed me a smile, a glimmer of warmth returning now that we were in safer territory.

The problem was, monsters came easy to me. But when it came to beautiful, otherworldly creatures who left me speechless and turned my brain to mush… I had no idea where to begin. The pixies had put me back at square awkward, and I didn’t know how to make the leap to the next square.