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“Someone looks a bit more chipper this evening. How are those mice sitting in that tummy of yours?” I sat cross-legged on the floor before Miss Bennet’s glass orb to watch her eat. Miss Bennet was a fiery-scaled naga: a seven-foot serpent with a cobra’s hood and carrot-colored eyes that, more often than not, held a withering glare. Her shining tail coiled beneath her like bronzed ropes. I knew I was growing on her because she’d stopped spitting venom at the glass every time I approached. Goodness, she was a beauty.

Miss Bennet swayed slightly, watching a white mouse scuttle across the floor of her orb. In one precise burst, she snapped the rodent up and swallowed it whole. Others might have found the gulping sounds grotesque, but I observed in awe as her muscles visibly constricted to urge the creature down her endless neck. Her tongue flicked as she reeled back again, her eyes bright with the thrill of the hunt.

I smiled. “Delicious, non? I have it on good authority that they’re gourmet.”

She dipped forward and nudged the glass with her flat nose. “Nose” wasn’t quite correct, anatomically speaking—she didn’t have a nose at all, just two nostril slits that flared with each inhale and exhale. But it was easier to just say “nose,” so everyone understood.

Now, I was no Dr. Dolittle (though that would have made my job infinitely simpler), but I took Miss Bennet’s gesture as a sign that she’d enjoyed her furry feast. I felt a touch sorry for the many mice that had been dropped through the hatch to their imminent doom, but carnivores would carnivore. Miss Bennet was usually fed a synthetic protein mix, but her stomach had been acting up in the past week or so. I’d noticed her languishing in her orb, the sheen of her scales dulled to a brassy hue. When one of my creatures was doing poorly, I did all I could to help, and that included, but was not limited to, a few sacrificial rodents. I’d come to learn that Purge beasts were typically sick for a few reasons: unsuitable diet, enclosure anxiety, or something in their environment. For sweet and spitty Miss Bennet, the diet change appeared to have done the trick.

I stood, dusting off the seat of my trousers, and proceeded with the evening rounds. Duke, the two-horned abada, very similar to a unicorn, chewed morosely on a parcel of synthetic fairy dust. Ichiro and Gen, a pair of tortoise-shelled kappas, rested in bowed positions as the basin-like indents of their skulls sloshed water that I’d poured in to keep them from freezing anyone on the spot. A cluster of rompos, which I hadn’t gotten around to naming, tore up a protein block. They were relatively small creatures with rabbit heads, badger forelegs, and the hind legs of bears. They had emaciated middles and eerily human-esque ears. I had their orb hexed with a silencing spell so they couldn’t sing and draw humans to their deaths. And Dante, the Grootslang—a curious individual with the head of an elephant and the body of a serpent—splashed contentedly in his half-filled orb of water.

I paused beside the large orb that held a pair of crocottas—wolf-dog beings that more closely resembled hyenas than any wolf or dog I had ever seen. “Pelias, Neleus, I thought you two had agreed to make friends?” I said. They were sulking at their respective ends of the enclosure, crying at one another before returning to their teenage moping. I’d moved them into this larger orb and made sure they had separate feeding drops in the hopes that it would lessen their frequent scrapping. I supposed it had worked, basically, since whining was preferable to fighting.

Pelias, identifiable by the yellowish tuft of hair that stuck up like a mohawk, whimpered at me and snapped his jaws in his brother’s direction. It set Neleus off immediately, barking in disapproval at whatever Pelias had said to me in crocotta-speak. Sighing, I took a handful of monster treats—my personal recipe—and dropped them through the brothers’ separate hatches. The two beasts descended on the snacks, forgetting their fraternal quarrel in favor of delicious goodness. Sometimes, there was no better way to achieve behavioral peace than simple bribery.

“Behave yourselves,” I said, leaving them to their crunching.

I turned to a gaggle of yellow-eyed gremlins, whom I had also neglected to name as of yet. I always had a harder time with the larger groups, especially if they lacked any specific features that made it easier to tell them apart. Unprompted, one of them hooked his fingers in the sides of his mouth, his slimy green tongue hanging out, and waggled his head wildly.

I believed I was doing some genuine good here, both for the monsters and the wider magical community, by bringing attention to the fact that these were sentient, if occasionally rude, beings who deserved better. It was on a small scale, through my thesis and my research papers and my teachings, but I knew that my work was valuable. After all, it only took a tiny spark to create an explosive change.

Not all of the beasts took a liking to me, of course. Before she was taken to the Bestiary, I hadn’t dared go near Persie’s second banshee, not after she’d leapt out of the shadows at me and made me scream like a baby pterodactyl. But I tried my best. It was why I liked to give them names—that way, at least while they were in my care, they were not merely a statistic, a number, or a fuel source.

Peace is hard to find. Harder still to keep. Some days, I could not believe my fortune. How many people could honestly say that they had landed themselves in their ideal job, where they experienced true contentment on a daily basis? My life here would have been utter perfection if it weren’t marred by the memory of what I had done to gain the position. I didn’t know if the ends could justify the means, but in my case, there had been no alternative.

I could not lose this.

I would not. Besides, people lied on their resumes all the time, and they mostly ended up fine. But I’d had the credentials and the work ethic and the passion, and I could live with the lies I’d told if they allowed me to stay here and make a difference.

No, I told myself. No one could know the truth.

“You understand, don’t you?” I asked the gremlin. He repeated his head-shaking, tongue-wagging motion, and I decided to take that as a “yes.”

And no secret will prevent me from doing my life’s work, dedicated to the altering of minds. Not everyone would understand if I were to reveal the truth, so I chose to be cautious. I chose to show my worth through my devotion to the monsters and the Institute, in the hope that it would make up for any sins that I carried inside me.

“Looks like no one’s here. I guess we’re good to open all the cages.” A familiar voice cut through my private reverie. That deadpan delivery could only mean Genie Vertis.

I could write twenty research papers and still be no closer to understanding her.

I hurried out of the aisles, wishing I hadn’t changed into jeans and a T-shirt after dinner. I felt more capable when I had my polo-and-tweed uniform on. Being so casual, I felt… exposed. I emerged from the orbs and saw the dynamic duo waiting for me, still wearing martial-arts clothes and matching smirks. “Very funny,” I said. “What would you unleash first?”

“Good question.” Genie flashed me a disarming smile. “The biggest one, for peak mayhem purposes, then the rest.”

I laughed nervously, my throat tight. “I’m not sure whether to be impressed or terrified.” I gestured to their clothing and asked Persie, “Were you on dojo duty again?”

“Need you ask?” She rolled her eyes. “Every Monday, Wednesday, Friday—regular as clockwork.”

“There’s always method in Marcel’s madness. I’m sure he’s trying to teach you something,” I encouraged. After she’d saved the day from Fergus, people at the Institute had finally given Persie the respect she deserved, but I knew that wasn’t enough for her; she was always looking for another challenge.

Genie laughed. “McCarthy’s just trying to get free labor. If he had to do it himself, he’d snap the mop between his beefy mitts.”

“So poetic.” I smiled, gesturing toward my study. “Now, can I interest either of you in a cup of tea? I was just about to put the kettle on. I think I have some shortbread somewhere, too, if you haven’t eaten yet?”

“You’ve been in Ireland too long,” Genie teased. “But I’d take a coffee, if you’re brewing some. And I could murder some proper biccies, if you’ve got any? Look at me, picking up the lingo! Aren’t you proud?”

She knew full well that I had coffee, and that I drank far too much of it. During most of our encounters, I had a novelty mug in one hand. As for her newfound love of colloquialisms… well, it was unbearably charming.

“I have custard creams and chocolate hobnobs,” I said, feeling a little flustered.

She smirked. “Hobnobs? That can’t be a real thing. You’re pulling my leg.”

“I assure you, they are very real. They’re oaty, chocolatey biscuits—sorry, cookies. I think you’ll like them.” I turned to Persie. “Anything for you?”

“Tea sounds good, with milk and sugar.” She grinned, a peculiar look in her eyes. As if she knew something I didn’t, and was having a secret, inner monologue about it. I could almost see her lips moving.

I all but sprinted for my study to give myself a moment of quiet to compose myself. I liked to think of myself as a competent man who could socialize with the best of them, and I’d even been known to make a decent job of flirting when the fancy took me. However, since Genie had burst into my life, my tongue was forever tangling itself in knots and my complexion never failed to give me away. It was the fate of the Irish to turn red in the sun and, apparently, in embarrassing situations with women they found attractive.

Ten minutes later, I emerged with a tea tray and carried it over to the small sitting area by the window, which was nothing more than a circular table with four armchairs around it. Genie and Persie had already made themselves at home, their hushed discussion coming to an abrupt end as I appeared. I didn’t want to call myself paranoid, but it seemed likely I’d been the topic of conversation. Ignoring it, I distributed the beverages and snacks and took a seat, glad to be off my feet for a moment.

“No offense intended, but don’t you two have anything more exciting to do on a Friday night?” I asked, taking a sip of my coffee.

Genie raised an irreverent eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Uh… I don’t know, watching movies with your classmates?”

Persie chuckled. “Genie doesn’t like to. She says everyone always talks through it, so she can’t enjoy it.”

“I understand completely.” I didn’t watch movies often, but when I did, I liked to know what was going on. “My mum was the worst for that. She’d ask endless questions about things I couldn’t possibly know the answers to, and then fall asleep halfway through. At least I got to watch the end in peace.”

Genie shrugged. “Exactly, who needs that? Besides, it’s nice here.” She gazed out the window for a moment, where the sea thrashed beneath the setting sun, and then snapped back to the present. “If you don’t get enough social interaction, you might try having a tea party with the monsters. Really, we’re helping you out.”

“Ah, I see.” I laughed, wishing she would turn to look at the sunset again. “Is this a secret mission Victoria has given you?”

“Maybe,” she replied, her slate gray eyes glittering.

I pretended to sigh. “And here I was, thinking you visited because you liked my company.”

Her eyelids flickered subtly, her smile fading. “You’re not so bad.”

Really? It wasn’t much in the way of a compliment, but coming from her, it was akin to a shower of praise. That was part of the endless tug-of-war that forged our relationship—the push and pull of jokes and quips, interspersed with the occasional kind word or unexpected sentiment that slackened the rope.

I decided to change the subject, in case Persie felt awkward. “Speaking of parties and mums, how are you both feeling about the family extravaganza next month? It’s always a wonderful occasion.” These family weekends took place biannually—halfway through and at the conclusion of the academic year. Everyone tended to get very excited by the prospect, as there weren’t many opportunities to see loved ones when you were bogged down in the rigors of training. Even phone calls and texts could be taxing after a long day.

Genie made a disturbingly realistic retching noise. “I’d rather just wait until graduation to see my dad. It’s easier knowing he’s an ocean away.”

For a clever man, you can be exceedingly dense sometimes. It had been so long since the Door mess that I’d almost forgotten what I’d seen and heard that day, when we’d found Genie under the hypnotic spell. She’d spoken about arranged marriage, and how much she hated the idea. I hadn’t realized there were deeper familial tensions, but I supposed that should have been obvious from her frantic state that day.

Persie looked suddenly sad. “You don’t mean that. I’m sure he’ll be on his best behavior, and he’ll be thrilled to see you again, doing so well here.”

“If I were to hold my breath on that, I’d die.” She grabbed a hobnob and devoured it with remarkable aggression.

Against my better judgment, the words “You don’t get on?” somehow slipped out of my mouth. Genie was an enigma to me: bright and ferocious and brave, but there were occasional glimpses of vulnerability, and I wanted to know those parts, too.

Genie paused, a few crumbs dropping into her coffee. “We do and we don’t. I understand now why he’s always been so overprotective, but I could do without all the hyper-traditional bull he’ll inevitably spew.” Her voice cracked, and she took a sip of her drink. “Still, I miss the stuffing out of him, and I do love him. The trouble is… this was never part of his grand plan for me. He’s come around in the past few months, sure, but I’m sure he’ll scoff and roll his eyes a lot.”

“Well, at least you have that in common,” I joked, then worried she might not be in a joking mood. To my surprise, a grin shot back at me from over the lip of her mug.

“Says you.” She laughed. “I’m shocked your retinas are still attached.”

I smiled back. “I’ve trained them, over the years.” Curious, I turned to Persie. “How about you? There’s already a bit of excitement rippling through the Institute about the famous Harley Merlin coming to visit. Although I’d say you’re just as much of a celebrity as she is, after your recent heroics.” To have a famous, or infamous, parent undoubtedly came with a lot of unfair expectations, but she was enthusiastic, beaming as she spoke.

“I’m really looking forward to it. My parents are already counting down the days, and my mom’s complaints about video calls get worse every time I call. I think it’ll put their minds at ease if they can actually be here for a while and see firsthand that I’m doing okay.”

I nodded. “I’m sure you’re right.”

“How about your family? I know your dad is sort of out of the picture, but will your mom come?” Genie interjected.

I kept forgetting that these two were as thick as thieves. Nothing remained a secret for long. Not that I’d asked Persie to keep my family particulars from Genie, but everything I said to one seemed to reach the other via some female osmosis. However, there was nothing more I wanted to add about that part of my life. My dad had forgotten about us, so I’d made the decision, a long time ago, to forget about him. Which begged the question of why I wore his bracelet around my wrist, even now. I had no real answer to that, other than it served as a reminder that I had survived without him for most of my life, and I would continue to do so.

“I’m a scholar’s assistant. I can take vacation days to go and see my mum whenever I want,” I replied, avoiding the subject.

“I like the way you say that. ‘Mum.’” Genie chuckled to herself, the charming sound lowering my guard for the question that ambushed me next. “Are you still in touch with your dad? Would he come to see you if you asked him, or do you not know where he is?”

I hesitated a moment too long. “I have no idea where he is, and I don’t much care.” That was half-true, but I had no desire to be fully honest, not even with Genie. “Anyway. You’re here for the pixies, right? You’re always here for the pixies.”

They put on a pair of innocent grins that fooled no one, then Persie dove right to the heart of it.

“Well, the pixies have been locked up for a while, and I was thinking it might be good for them to stretch their wings and get some air.” She tapped the side of her mug nervously. “I know I keep asking, and you’re not really supposed to let me, but they hate it in those orbs.”

What sort of vicious cycle did I start? I hadn’t been able to resist their mutual pleas to let Boudicca visit Persie’s room while the two of them were quarantining after the Door business, and it had snowballed from there. Now it was requests for full-on excursions into the orchard or down to the sea, or for a walk in the walled gardens. And it was beginning to worry me. If Victoria discovered that I was permitting this, I would get more than a slap on the wrist.

“Persie…” I started to protest, but she leapt up before I could finish and ran to the pixies. Genie followed her, leaving me no choice but to trail behind them, already knowing that I would relent. I had bent the rules for Persie, Genie, and the pixies so many times that it would’ve been nearly impossible to break the habit now. Nevertheless, I would attempt to put up a fight. At least, that was my intention, until I saw the pixies barrel toward the glass, shrieking with glee at seeing their creator again. No… she was more than that. She was their friend, and so was Genie. Boudicca pressed herself flat against the orb’s glass, swiping her arms up and down as though making snow angels, her legs jigging with happiness. Spartacus whooped and waggled his striped bum in excitement, while Cynane puckered her lips and smooched the glass, her arms wide as though she were trying to hug Persie through the barrier.

“Please, Nathan,” Genie urged on her friend’s behalf, which, biased though I was, I was still able to identify as emotional blackmail. “Look at them.”

I struggled to not feel moved as Persie pressed her palm to the glass and Boudicca placed her tiny hand atop Persie’s from the other side, her big black eyes swimming with bittersweet happiness. “It’s against regulations,” I said, my resolve slowly fizzling away. How could I say I was an advocate of the monsters and their freedom if I could turn my back on such obvious, and deeply mutual, adoration?

Genie’s face hardened. “What about all the other times?”

“I know, I know.” I took off my spectacles and wiped them on the bottom of my T-shirt, a nervous tic that never failed to calm me. “But I can’t keep going against the rules. You should get Victoria’s permission first.”

Persie turned. “I can’t do that. Victoria was very clear that the pixies weren’t to leave the Repository, and she’ll smell a rat if I suddenly ask to take them out. She’ll know that the rules have been bent. She’s not stupid.” In truth, I doubted Victoria would have said yes, even if Persie had asked. After decreeing that the pixies could stay as long as they remained in the Repository, Victoria had ensured that they were tagged with small, yellow plastic rings around one ankle, as an additional assurance. They weren’t trackers, per se, but they set off an alarm if the pixies came close to the Institute’s boundaries. I had tested them myself, and also instructed Persie on how to remove and put them back on safely, so Victoria would never know they had been outside the perimeter.

“You’re putting me in a very awkward situation,” I protested. To add insult to injury, all three of the pixies clasped their hands together, pleading with me. Boudicca chattered softly, and though I couldn’t understand her words, I heard the sadness in her tone.

“They deserve a bit of freedom, Nathan. Victoria might not see it, but I know you do. All those missing Institute folks would still be in Fergus’s realm if it wasn’t for these pixies,” she reminded me gently. “Don’t let Victoria’s rules cause you to forget that. They are owed, and I’m just trying to do what’s right for them.”

I put my glasses back on. “What are you asking for, exactly?”

“One whole day of freedom,” she replied without hesitation. “I swear I’ll take good care of them, and I’ll make sure no one finds out. I haven’t let you down yet, have I? I’ve had them for half a day, and I’ve taken them to all sorts of places around the Institute, and nobody has ever caught on. Please, Nathan. They understand the risks, too. They’ll do their disappearing act if anyone comes near.” The pixie trio nodded effusively, Boudicca displaying the action by vanishing in a puff of greenish smoke, then puffing back again. “Do it for them. They saved you, they saved Genie—the least you can do is give them one measly day out of the Repository.”

Please don’t let this be a grave mistake. I glanced from Persie to the pixies and back again. All of them wore the same imploring expression: wide eyes, hopeful smiles. The pixies even put on a glowing light display for me, their luminescent spots pulsing in soft pink flashes. I’d already known that I wouldn’t be able to refuse, but when I saw Genie’s gray eyes filled with an intangible faith, it cemented the fact.

Grimacing, I approached the orb and placed my hand on the glass. “Do you have your puzzle boxes, just in case?”

Persie shrieked happily. “Yes, and I promise I’ll keep them on me at all times!”

“Very well, but please, don’t make me regret this.” I whispered the spell that opened the orb. A glimmering iris twisted open and the pixies soared out, making a beeline for Persie. They smothered her with love, fluttering around her head and twittering animatedly. Boudicca swept toward her face and landed a sweet kiss on the tip of her nose, while Spartacus and Cynane cooed affectionately.

They really do love her… I envied her, in many ways, for she had an ability that I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. I knew she had a love-hate relationship with her ability, but it resulted in some incredible moments. Truthfully, I was honored to be a spectator, finding nuances in her relationship with her creations that I would never have thought possible.

“You won’t regret this, I promise.” Persie assured me, as she encouraged the pixies to hide away in her martial-arts outfit, Spartacus and Cynane finding comfortable spots inside her lapels, while Boudicca perched boldly on her shoulder, hidden only by Persie’s hair. “I’ll send you so many updates that you’ll turn your phone off, okay? And I’ll bring them back at the same time tomorrow.”

I sighed. “Okay. Call me if you have any problems.” I passed a hand over the orb, conjuring a ‘glamour’ spell across the glass that showed a scene of three sleeping pixies at the bottom of their enclosure, in case anyone else happened to come by and wonder where they were. I’d done this so often it was second nature to me now.

“Thank you so much!” She was giddy, already turning to leave with her stowaways. I waited for Genie to follow her, but she didn’t budge.

“You’re… uh… not going too?” I asked Genie. Persie liked to make quips about me having certain affections for Genie, but she’d never outright left us alone together before. And it had an undeniable aroma of ulterior motive about it, though perhaps I was imagining that.

“Not unless you’re sick of me already?” Genie replied, cool as a proverbial cucumber.

Did I miss some telepathic discussion? I looked to Persie, but she’d already gone. Persie definitely knew I was very… fond of Genie, but did Persie know something I didn’t? Something along the lines of Genie returning my affections? I didn’t dare put words in absent mouths, or read more into this situation, in case I was grossly misinterpreting. But why would Persie have left us both here like this, if not to… set some kind of stage? Was I expected to do something? Say something? My nerves rattled, my tongue tying itself up good and proper. Still, I couldn’t deny that the prospect of time alone with Genie was nice, even if I couldn’t put on the anticipated play Persie might’ve been hoping for.

I swallowed my anxiety. “I doubt that’s even possible. If you kept me any more on my toes, I would have to seriously consider a career with Riverdance.”

She burst out laughing, the uncomfortable tension dissipating. “You really did check out that book on humor, huh?”

“It was an excellent recommendation.” I tried to relax. “I know it’s not massively thrilling, but would you like to help me finish the evening feed?”

“Can we put on some music?” she asked, trailing her fingertips absently across the glass orb, inching closer to my own hand.

“Only if I get to pick.”

She grinned. “Hmm… we’ll see about that.”

“You never know, you might like my taste.” I resisted the urge to move my hand and grasp hers, afraid to spook her. This was the closest thing to physical contact we’d had in six months, and I didn’t want to burst this bubble with a potential rejection. I decided I would be content just to spend time in her company until I was sure that she wanted what I wanted.

Her fingertips stopped an inch shy of contact, and her mesmerizing gray eyes locked on mine, a world of unspoken words and mysteries hiding within them. “Stranger things have happened.”