Page 6

In all my life, I’d never felt such pressure to avoid stilted silence with another person. Conversation with Genie had become an imperative need rather than a relaxed flow. I longed for a list of memorized bullet points that I could bring up casually, but my mind had turned to unintelligible mush, a mire of awkwardness preventing me from tapping into my social skills. She appeared interested in the things I had to say, like my description of the feeding frenzy that rompos went into when they smelled meat, but she listened more than she spoke. I wanted to know more about her—I wanted her to fill the gaps with anecdotes. But she seemed more reticent than usual, perhaps affected by the same awkwardness I felt.

“Uh… how about these?” We’d finished the feeding rounds, and I was desperate to continue engaging her. I pointed to a large orb up ahead. “They’re leprechauns. Very prevalent in Ireland and notorious mischief-makers. If you’re ever fortunate enough to catch one, don’t take your eyes off it—not even for a second—or it’ll disappear and you’ll never find out where it’s hiding its pot of gold.”

I led her to the orb where four of the creatures resided. Glowering at me with obvious disdain, they were amongst that select group of Purge beasts that I simply couldn’t win over. One puffed on a pipe with such vehemence that I wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t lit it with the fire of his own fury. A second sat with his back to the glass and raised two fingers at me—a rude gesture here in the British Isles.

“You’ll notice they’re quite… lively.” I laughed stiffly. “You might think that gesture means peace or victory, but that is not the case here. If my history is correct, this two-finger swear originated from the English longbowmen of yore, as a sign of defiance to the French that they still had their shooting fingers intact.”

Genie grinned. “It makes a nice difference from the bird. Swearing variety being the spice of life and all.”

The third leprechaun hurled himself at the glass and pounded on it with a shillelagh, though I couldn’t say where he’d hidden the weapon. The fourth just stood in the center of the orb and glared, one hand tucked into the lapel of his dark green waistcoat.

“Yes, I think leprechauns would agree with you on that,” I said, wishing I had something more profound or cerebral to say, instead of telling her about the history of rude gestures.

Genie crouched down and smiled at the foursome. “Oh, I know these feisty bastards all too well. At the SDC, one of them is pretty much the director—or he likes to think so.” She laughed and relief washed over me. “I once called him O’Halloran’s talking parrot, and he almost brained me with one of those.” She pointed to the shillelagh.

“Really?” It never failed to surprise me when I heard tales of Purge beasts living relatively free and integrated existences. The SDC had always been somewhat ahead of its time, and it gave me hope that the phenomenon might become widespread in the future. The SDC had been the first to welcome Atlanteans, and they had the accolades of taking down two global enemies—Katherine Shipton and Davin Doncaster—and they were in possession of the Bestiary. Perhaps the proximity to monsters made them more open to the idea of these creatures as sentient beings, deserving of freedom. Although that logic didn’t entirely hold up, considering that the Institute had the same proximity to beasts but existed to create hunters. Besides, Atlantis had never balked at the idea of using monsters for fuel.

Genie nodded. “He’s called Diarmuid. Eight inches of pure terror. The friendship he and O’Halloran have is kind of sweet, though. They’re like an old, messed-up married couple who loathe each other as much as they love each other.”

I chuckled. “I wouldn’t mind meeting them one day.”

“I’ve never understood the pot of gold thing, though.” She turned to look up at me. “Isn’t that just stealing? Like, these leprechauns have clearly put in some serious work to get their dough, and then someone just comes along and demands it. Doesn’t seem right to me.”

The leprechaun with his back to the glass whipped around and started nodding aggressively. His mouth moved a mile a minute, his hand gestures bordering on obscene. Unfortunately, I’d had to put a muting hex on their orb—otherwise none of the other Repository residents would have gotten any peace—so I didn’t know exactly what he was saying. I supposed I could’ve removed the hex to hear his argument, but I felt a duty to protect Genie’s ears from the cascade of expletives that would certainly follow.

“It’s more of a historical thing,” I explained. “There hasn’t been a report of a person claiming a pot of gold in hundreds of years.”

She furrowed her brow. “But what happens when their pot does get stolen? Do they get another one, or do they have to start from scratch?”

“Hmm. Excellent question.” Finally, the conversation was flowing more naturally. “There are multiple theories, though nobody has ever been able to gain a leprechaun’s trust enough to ask directly. They aren’t typically… friendly. By the sounds of it, even this Diarmuid isn’t particularly warm and fuzzy.”

“Next time I go back to the SDC, I’ll ask him for you. Maybe you’ll get yourself a Nobel Prize for Monstering or something.” She grinned, watching the livid leprechaun, her eyes curious. “You can write a paper and be world famous for figuring out, once and for all, what happens to a pot of gold after it’s taken by a human. I want to be in the acknowledgements, though.”

I grinned. “Noted.”

“What are those things?” Much to the chagrin of the silently clamoring leprechaun, Genie’s attention shifted to another large enclosure. He snatched the shillelagh out of his cohort’s hand and banged it with all his might against the glass, but the sound was too muffled for Genie to notice.

Excited that her interest appeared genuine, I led her away from the angry foursome and headed for two of my favorites, despite their fraternal quarrelling. “These are Pelias and Neleus, crocottas of Ethiopian origin, recently brought in by an African-expedition team. They were called in by a village that was being terrorized by these guys.”

Genie crouched low again and touched her hand to the glass. I resisted warning her about smudges, in case I ruined the moment. It was nothing a quick spray wouldn’t fix. The two hyena-like pups padded over to her, Neleus trying to nudge her palm through the orb. Pelias, not to be outdone, slobbered his pink tongue across the interior, trying to lick her hand.

“They don’t seem scary,” she said softly. “They’re kind of cute.”

Neleus flopped down in front of Genie and stared up at her with his honey-colored eyes. Pelias copied, resting his head on his brother’s, the two of them blinking sweetly at her with their tongues lolling out of their mouths. Had it not been for their big, leaf-shaped ears, their coarse, yellowed stripes, and their oddly bowed legs, they would’ve looked exactly like someone’s pet hounds.

I crouched beside her, so close I could smell her perfume. Not sugary, but fruity and sweet, with sophisticated notes of bergamot and citrus. It suited her perfectly. “They’re misunderstood, and they often get mistaken for oversized hyenas. That’s enough to worry a village that’s trying to protect themselves. Hyenas are known scavengers, but they won’t hesitate to snatch a child or a goat, or even a full-grown adult, if the mood takes them.” I sighed, brushing my knuckles against the glass. Pelias and Neleus followed the movement intently, their eyes glowing brighter. “I don’t like them being locked up like this, but it’s better than letting them be destroyed by people who don’t know what they are.”

“Do they… eat people?” Genie didn’t take her hand away, even with those suspicions on her tongue.

“No, but their nature brings them close to settlements.” I smiled, the two of us exchanging a fleeting gaze. My heartbeat skyrocketed, just from that one simple look. “They’ve been brought tragically close to the brink of extinction over the last few centuries, just because they’re so often mistaken for hyenas and are killed for it. I suppose they should’ve evolved a fear of humans, but it goes against their purpose.”

Genie nodded slowly. “And what’s that?”

“They can smell death, which, I’ve theorized, is why they look so much like hyenas. Hyenas are known scavengers of carrion. Instinct urges them to warn people of impending doom, regardless of the risk to themselves.” I got a little choked up and hurriedly turned my face away. “It’s strange, isn’t it, how an alert can be misconstrued as a bad omen? These crocottas give people a chance to change a variable in their fate, but they’re too afraid to understand. In a way, they’d rather kill their would-be saviors than try to listen to a beast.”

I turned back to find Genie staring at me, her eyes glittering with tears. “That’s the saddest thing I think I’ve ever heard.”

“In the village close to where these two were captured, they were discovered sniffing around a child in his home. The mother’s first instinct, upon seeing what she thought were a pair of hyenas, was to sound the alarm, which brought armed men who tried to kill them. They escaped, and news reached the Institute, which is why we sent out a team.” I paused, my throat tight. “When the hunters went to speak to the mother, they found out that the little boy had died in his sleep from an obstruction in his throat. The crocottas were trying to warn her that he was choking, but she misunderstood.”

Genie’s mouth fell open in horror. “Chaos… That’s awful. That poor boy, and his poor mother, and these poor beasties.” Her hand lifted from the glass and, for a split second, I froze, thinking she was about to raise it to my cheek, where a tear had spilled down. Instead, her hand hovered midway between us, as though my internal panic had stopped time.

“It’s rare to see one, and rarer still to see a set of twins,” I said, breaking the tension and brushing away the tear. “I’ve really got to stop leaving their treat box open. I think I got a crumb or something in my eye.” I’d already told her that I made the treats myself, as a conversation starter, which had made her chuckle. She’d even threatened to buy me a novelty apron to go with my menagerie of novelty mugs, but I’d sensed she found the idea endearing rather than lame.

Genie smiled and drew her hand back. “At least they’re safe now. You clearly love what you do, and I know Tobe will take good care of them when they go on to the Bestiary.” She lowered her gaze, leaving me longing for more. “I’ll have to ask him if he bakes treats for the Purge beasts. I doubt it, or he’d never leave the kitchen.”

That was the moment, genius, and you well and truly fluffed it! I cursed inwardly. Her hand had been right there, an olive branch that I only had to reach out and take hold of. It was the surest sign I’d had so far that she liked me in return. It was a hypothesis rather than a concrete conclusion, but there’d definitely been something in the curve of her smile, the glint of her eyes, the faint flush in her cheeks, and the slight tremble in her fingertips. And I’d gone and let the moment whizz by me.

I mustered a strangled laugh. “Tell him I’d be happy to give him the recipe.”

If only there were a monster that could rewind time. I had dated before, with varying degrees of success, but I’d never found anyone who made me more focused on her than my work—which tended to keep the relationships brief. This was unknown territory for me. Moreover, there was also the matter of me being a scholar’s assistant and her being a trainee hunter. There was no explicit rule against it, but Victoria would likely frown upon fraternization. Or, perhaps I was merely looking for an excuse not to proceed with my affections. If I didn’t get involved, I couldn’t get hurt. If I didn’t get involved, I wouldn’t hurt her by falling into previous relationship patterns. And I was fairly sure the sight of her in any kind of pain would end me.

But she was beside me, having chosen to spend time in my company. She had lifted her hand like she was going to wipe that tear away for me. She had listened to my awkward babblings about the scent gland of a swamp devil, even when I’d gone into olfactory detail about the rotten fish stench they emitted. Sure, there’d been some amused remarks, but they’d been framed as questions so she could learn more about my work. Such as: “How fishy are we talking? Mackerel fishy, salmon fishy, or whitebait fishy? Would I know it was a swamp devil just by smell alone?” All of that pointed to one distinct possibility—that, yes, she did like me.

“I wish we could take them for a walk,” Genie said, her voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what you and Persie have done to me. I never used to mind seeing them behind glass. Now, you’ve both made things all… squiffy.”

I laughed quietly. “Is that another new word you learned?”

“Sure is.” She sniffed, wiping her nose on the back of her sleeve. “Can I ask you something?”

I took a quick breath, ready to say yes if she asked me out on a date. I’d wanted to make the first move, but I could make up for that later if the first date went well. Hoping I looked casual, I nodded.

“What started all of this for you? What made you want to work with monsters?” she asked, and my chest deflated a little. It wasn’t the question I’d hoped for, but it was still a question that made me smile. Another hint that suggested she liked me. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be so interested in getting to know more about me. Unfortunately, there was only so much I could tell her, personally speaking.

I gestured around at the shining forest of orbs that brimmed with life. “Them.” I struggled with how to proceed with my story, realizing I hadn’t told it to anyone in years. “I was young, maybe fourteen. My mum had just given me my dad’s Grimoire, and I decided it’d be a great idea to run a tracking spell on my dad with it. I knew he didn’t want to be found, but… I was stupid, I guess. Anyway, I followed the spell to this volcanic island in the middle of the Pacific, and the tracking spark led me up a sheer rockface. After I climbed it, I came to a ledge, where the spark disappeared.”

“Was your dad there?” Genie asked, her eyes wide as saucers.

I laughed bitterly. “No. If he’d ever been there, it had been a long time ago. But I did find this.” I raised my wrist to show her the bracelet. “It must’ve been put there to trick anyone who tried to trace him by his Grimoire, and I fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Anyway, I took the bracelet and tried to climb back down the volcanic cliff. Do you know much about volcanic rock?”

She shook her head. “Geology’s not my preferred bedtime reading.”

“Well, it’s notoriously unstable.” I smiled, remembering. “I lost my footing and fell for what seemed like a lifetime. My mum didn’t even know I’d gone on that wild goose chase and all I could think about was her, at home, never knowing what happened to her son. The island wasn’t inhabited, and I hadn’t told anyone what I was up to. I could’ve simply… disappeared.”

“Well, you look like you’re in one piece, so I’m guessing you survived. Unless you’re a really convincing ghost.” She was making her usual jokes, but they didn’t sound the way they normally did. It was as though she felt she had to be funny, to ease my discomfort in telling the story.

I chuckled. “I bounced off a few rocks and blacked out. I thought I was dead. When I woke up, I saw an enormous, snow-white bird nestled beside me, one wing covering me like a blanket. I think I asked her if she was an angel, and she just looked at me. It was the most withering look I’ve ever received.”

“I guess I can’t compete, huh?” She gave me a gentle nudge in the arm, and my chest clenched at the contact. Anyone who could have read my vital signs at that moment would have thought I was a weirdo who’d never been touched in his life. But this was Genie. She made the ordinary seem extraordinary, the mundane pure magic. “Go on,” she encouraged. “What was the bird?”

“A Caladrius. She must have caught me at some point after I fell and carried me back to her nest, where she healed me. I didn’t have a single scratch on me, though I had the memory of hitting some rocks so hard I shouldn’t have been breathing.” A dense lump of emotion blocked my throat. “She had no reason to save me. She risked being exposed by doing that. Caladrii are rare to begin with, but they were hunted and captured over the centuries, exploited for their healing properties. In helping me, she put her own life on the line.”

“Do you think she’s still there?” Genie moved slightly closer.

I shrugged. “I hope so. I got to live. My mum didn’t have to lose someone else. That was all because of the Caladrius.” I glanced down at the worn band of the bracelet. “That’s why I wear this, to remind myself of the Caladrius’s selfless act, and to remind myself that my father never wanted to be found.”

“Did you ever look again?”

I shook my head firmly. “No. Why waste energy on someone who doesn’t want you?” Genie’s mouth moved ever so slightly, as though saying something to herself. Was she saying that she wanted me? I didn’t dare hope for it. “Anyway, that’s where it started. The Caladrius took care of me until I was ready to leave, and she cawed as I went. A fond farewell. I knew, then, that they weren’t mindless creatures who hated humanity. I knew they weren’t just fuel for our world. I’d seen one, free, and it was incredible.”

“But they aren’t free. And they’re still fuel.” Genie scrunched up her nose, as though she was doubting everything she knew.

“Change takes a long time. I doubt the system will alter in my lifetime, but I am content to sow the seeds. And if I can’t spare them from capture, the least I can do is learn more about them, spread that knowledge, and ensure they are taken care of.” I grazed my hand across the crocottas’s orb, and they let out a soft whine of understanding.

There was another chapter of that Caladrius story, and I’d omitted a few details, but I kept it locked away in a box at the back of my mind. As much as I adored Genie, there were facets of my history that had to stay hidden. Silence had worked out for the best so far. All she needed to know was that I was trying to be the best version of myself—a good person, undefined by my past. Someone who wanted to be better, do better, and make the world better for monsters and magicals alike. Notoriety wasn’t something I had ever striven for. I wanted my work to speak for me, nothing else.

Genie smiled sadly. “If Atlantis had never risen, maybe I’d have lived long enough to see that change.”

“I know I probably shouldn’t say this, considering what happened back then, but… I’m glad it did rise.” There was more to that sentence, but my throat seized at the intensity in her eyes and I couldn’t say it aloud any more than I could find the words to ask her out.

If it hadn’t, I’d never have met you.