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Iscreamed as loud as my exhausted esophagus would allow. A monstrous face with two burning eyes glowered down at me, the scent of bonfire and rotten fish filling my nostrils in a rather unpleasant olfactory collision. My last memory was of having the life strangled out of me by a Hangman’s Rope—a vile piece of archaic anti-magical technology, usually reserved for the persecution exhibits of magical museums. I realized I must have passed out at some point from lack of oxygen, as everything still appeared to be in good working order. Heartbeat? Check. Respiration? Check.

But what was this creature? A Fear Dearg?

“It’s okay!” Persie appeared in my line of sight. “This is Atlas. He’s my latest Purge beast.”

Then Genie poked her head into view. “That was a heck of a scream. You almost beat my decibels. But I like to think mine had more of a holy-crap-I’m-about-to-get-eaten timbre to it.”

I sat bolt upright and twisted around to get a better look at the monster, everything slightly blurred. “My glasses… Has anyone seen my glasses?”

Genie knelt and placed them onto the bridge of my nose, one of her hands holding the back of my neck in a way that made my skin tingle. “How’s that? They’re a bit scratched up, but no major breaks.”

“Much better.” I sighed with relief as the world came into focus, only to jolt again as the shape of the monster became clear. I squinted at him, wondering if my brain was still waking up. Usually, I could tell what family a monster came from at first sight, but this one… No matter how hard I racked my memory for an answer, none came back. I’d never seen this monster before. Not anywhere. And that hadn’t happened in a very long time.

“He takes some getting used to.” Genie got up and scratched the fur under the monster’s chin, which tapered to a point like a beard. Atlas closed his eyes in contentment, purring softly, despite having three pixies rolling around on his back, trying to get comfy. “I’ve decided that I like him.”

Persie chuckled. “I think he likes you too. And the pixies are in love.”

“When did all of this happen?” I rubbed the back of my neck, where Genie’s fingertips had been a few moments ago. The skin felt tender from rope burn, and I knew I’d be speaking like a husky jazz singer for a few days. “No, actually… what happened?”

Persie filled me in on what had gone down after I’d been taken out of proceedings, detailing how the antidote had only partially worked. I listened in awe and sadness as she told me about Gren, and how the loss had given her the power to summon a Purge. A bittersweet smile turned up her lips as she explained how the witch hunters had fled in terror from Atlas and his fire-breathing capabilities, though she hesitated for a few seconds before admitting that two had been incinerated.

“I don’t think they’re dead, though,” she hastened to add. “I know that sounds crazy, but… I got this feeling that they’d just been sent somewhere else. Another realm, or something. Are fire portals a thing?”

I frowned. “They are, but they have to be conjured by breaking Demon Rubies. It’s the same way the djinn can create portals with specific emeralds.” I looked at Atlas, inspecting him more closely as Genie continued to fuss over him. “If I knew what he was, perhaps I’d be able to research his species and any relation to fire portals.”

Persie stiffened. “You don’t know?”

“Honestly, I have zero clue. I keep thinking something will come to me, but I’ve simply never seen a monster like this before.”

“What if there’s a reason for that?” Persie said quietly, fidgeting.

My frown deepened. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I had the same feeling you’re having—that I’ve never seen anything like Atlas in any of my dreams, or in my research, or anywhere. While I’d never seen the pixies before they appeared, I knew they existed. Usually, I can get subconscious tidbits about a creature through a sort of sixth sense, but I keep coming up empty with him.” She met my curious gaze. “What if he’s… brand new?”

My eyes nearly bugged out of my head. “Pardon?”

“What if he’s the first of his kind? Hear me out: I created him in a moment of desperation, with my emotions running high and my back against the proverbial wall.” She paused, scratching her temple. “And he listens to me and understands what I’m saying in a way that no other monsters have, at least not initially. Gren felt my emotions and responded to what he thought I wanted, but with Atlas… it’s like there’s no language barrier whatsoever.”

I didn’t know whether to be alarmed or leap for joy. It had always been a broadly accepted theory that new monsters could be created, as there had to have been a first of every species at some point in history. However, it was also widely understood that ordinary magicals didn’t have the Chaos capacity to create something entirely new. That would have been the territory of Echidna—the Mother of Monsters—or Chaos itself. My heart thudded with nervous excitement as I looked between Persie and her latest Purge. Persie was the new Mother of Monsters. Given the right circumstances, why wouldn’t she be able to conjure up the first of a new species? The witch hunters had killed Gren and wanted to kidnap the three of us, so, naturally, she’d summoned a Purge with the capability to protect us all. She’d built the perfect monster for the moment we were in.

“Let me do some research first,” I said, already picturing the books I wanted to check. “If I really can’t find anything about a monster like Atlas, then that could very well be what’s happened. But we can talk more about that once we’re sure.”

“Can I ask you something?” she asked.

“Of course.” I managed to haul myself to my feet, resisting the urge to wipe the goop off the back of my trousers. It’s all from the floor residue, I reassured myself.

“Do you know what happens to monsters when they die?” Her voice hitched, tears welling. I felt for her—to Persie, Gren’s death was like losing a beloved pet, or even a child. She had, in a sense, given birth to the beast.

I patted her awkwardly on the back. “I think they return to the Chaos stream, where they wait to be born again as something else. It’s like one of the laws of thermodynamics—energy can’t be created or destroyed. It’s just… transferred into something else.”

“But he won’t come back as himself?” She wiped away a tear, and Boudicca fluttered down to her shoulder to wipe away the rest. Actually, she was licking them away, which was mildly disturbing, but Persie didn’t seem to mind.

“That, I don’t know. You’d have to ask Chaos itself.” I focused on Atlas, who appeared to have gone to sleep on his stretched-out forelegs. Genie leaned back against his armored side, avoiding the spines that he’d flattened to avoid any unintended spiking. It was jarring to see a monster so huge and frightening behave in such a gentle and peaceful manner, satisfied to be in the company of humans, albeit magical ones, without going wild. In fact, there seemed to be a definite correlation between Persie’s mood and Atlas’s. She was calmer now that the danger had passed, so he followed suit, able to fall asleep now that he had no reason to fight.

Persie sat beside Genie, snuggling into Atlas’s side. “By the way, I told Reid.”

“Told him what?” Genie leaned her head on Persie’s shoulder. I couldn’t quite remember what had happened to Genie, but I recalled seeing electrical sparks and her crashing to the ground. I’d gone to her, which was when one of those wretches must have slipped the Hangman’s Rope around my neck. But she seemed to be fine now, with just a faint singe mark on her forehead where she’d been zapped.

“I explained about the curse’s side effects, and how it couldn’t have happened if he was really a non-magical,” she replied. “That’s how we parted ways. I don’t think he was happy about it, but it’s something he’s going to have to handle whether he wants to or not.”

Genie chuckled. “How’s that for irony?”

“He should just be grateful that we magicals figured things out in time, so he doesn’t have to worry about being infectious anymore,” I muttered. “Maybe, with some time, he’ll see that we’re not the villains Veritas has made us out to be.”

“Weirder things have happened.” Persie closed her eyes and relaxed her shoulders. The poor girl must have been thoroughly exhausted after the ordeals she’d just been through, though at least her Purge beast made for a decent pillow.

I cleared my throat. “Yes, they have.” I scuffed the toe of my boot across the ground. “Namely, where this curse might have come from in the first place.”

Persie’s eyes shot open. “You found something out?”

“I didn’t want to mention it in case I was wrong—and I may still be wrong—but I think it’s best if all of us are in the loop. I know you both can be trusted, and this might be something to keep an eye on in the future. Of course, these are just my thoughts and suspicions, but I feel I have to share them.” I drew in a breath and told them, in absolute detail, everything that had occurred in Victoria’s office. The entry that I’d found in Ronan Lomax’s journals, and the possible history of the Veritas, dating back seventy years. The Anghenfil spell that I’d found, the obvious erasure, and the notations in the margins that suggested some testing had already taken place. I concluded with my doubts on the topic: how it was entirely plausible that a different Anghenfil spell had been used, or that someone had pilfered Victoria’s from her Grimoire. I didn’t want to sound too damning—I had to be fair.

Persie’s expression hardened. “If it was her, then that means she knew who Reid was the moment I told her who had kidnapped me.” She clicked her tongue. “So, either she was putting that unbreakable mask of hers to good use, or she really wasn’t involved. Man, I don’t know what to believe. My head’s all over the place.”

“You could ask Reid if he’s ever met her,” Genie said to Persie. “Or if he was asked to trail her, before we came to the Institute. He said he didn’t know who’d cursed him, right? Maybe he didn’t know Victoria was onto him, so he didn’t suspect her.”

Persie took out her phone and tapped it against her forehead. “I wish I’d known this before he vamoosed.”

“You don’t think he’ll be in touch again?” Genie asked.

She shrugged. “Maybe. I’d like it to be under happier circumstances, but I’m trying to be more of a realist these days. I’m sure he doesn’t want to face what he could be.” Her eyes flickered over her phone screen. “Based on what we’ve seen, I think he’ll just double-down on trying to fight it. He let the witch hunters attack us, despite everything we did for him. I’ve got no choice but to see that as a broken truce. Next time we meet, if we meet, we might have a war on our hands. Veritas gave us a taste of what they can do tonight, and they mean business. Atlas spooked them, but who knows if that’ll be enough to keep them away?”

“Then we must be cautious,” I urged. “We should keep what we know between the three of us and observe Victoria whenever possible. I’d like to hope that, if she did this, she had a good reason. And if we no longer have the ability to ask Reid, then Victoria is the only one with answers. I’m becoming increasingly certain that she knows more about the witch hunters than she’s willing to divulge.”

Persie sighed. “I’ll send Reid a text, but I won’t hold my breath for a reply. In the meantime, I’ll try and pry some information out of Victoria during our private sessions.”

“Carefully!” I warned. Victoria could smell a rat a mile off, and she had a reputation to uphold. If she caught even the faintest whiff that someone knew she’d meddled with a non-magical, there would be definite trouble. “Speaking of which, we need to get back to the Institute and get Atlas safely in the Repository, before someone notices we’re missing.”

We set off via chalk-door to the Institute, and I thought about how it would have been a shame to climb straight out of a hellish frying pan only to topple into the fire of Victoria’s wrath. Especially now that I had an inkling of what she was truly capable of.