Page 13 of My Monster’s Keeper

Becky

T his is absurd. Every time I’m around them, I’m getting these ridiculous hot flushes, and my brain goes on temporary leave.

I’ve tried hiding out in various rooms, but they always find me after a few minutes.

I’ve checked myself for tracking devices and even stashed my phone just in case, but it seems they’ve honed in on the very scent of me and unerringly find their way to wherever the fuck I hide.

And there’s this thing I’ve noticed. They just smell so good. Stix smells like water over stone, Frost like an icy wind, Puppy like smoke and burning, and Wilder smells like a forest.

It’s the most bizarre thing, but I find myself wanting to lean in and just inhale and breathe those scents until they are part of me.

I pull out one of my knives and wipe the blade over with an oiled cloth. I turn it this way and that, inspecting it, and then put it carefully in the thick canvas weapon satchel I bought three years ago.

I’ve had it buried in backyards, stashing in lockers, it’s come everywhere with me. Giving it away had killed me.

Freddy had known that about me, but then, he grew up the same way Grant and I did.

I pull out another, longer wicked blade.

It’s awkward in my hands, but it looks scary.

This is the one I used to stop our new foster father from beating up Grant.

I stare at the blade, falling into memories.

The agony I’ve pushed aside rears back up, ripping open my chest, reminding me that I’ve lost something vital, telling me I should be bleeding from the pain, dying from it.

My brother is gone. My best friend, my brother in all the wars we survived. Just snuffed out like he was nothing.

He was everything.

To me .

I put the blade back in the bag and reach for my favourite. It’s about as long as my forearm with a thin blade. The handle isn’t ornate, it’s plain wood, but it fits into my hand like it was made to be there.

I’ve almost killed a man with this blade.

A very bad man who shouldn’t be allowed to walk the streets.

He liked to touch little children. It was the police officer that talked me down from throwing my life away.

He told me about the process and what would happen to the creep inside a prison. He spared no details.

This cop with his big, friendly brown eyes had brought me back from my blind rage, shown me both our futures on both the paths I could take.

My hand had gotten sore, and the knife had jerked a little, cutting the skin, allowing red, red blood to run in rivulets.

He’d sobbed, cried, and shivered, completely weak in my hold, but my gaze was focused on the cop and his words.

Let the justice system give him what he deserves.

I’d been ridiculously enamoured with the dashing police officer. I’d ignored the cracks in the facade he’d painted. Those red flags, I’d just pretended they were green.

“That’s an interesting choice.”

I startle and glance at Frost leaning in my doorway. “It’s the one that feels right.”

He comes into the room and stops a foot away from me. “May I?”

I flip the knife around and hand it to him, handle first. He takes it and runs his fingers over the blade.

“Sharp, good weight, no flaws. It’s a suitable weapon.” He considers me for a moment. “But not enough. Not to protect you.”

Nerves reach out and take hold of my nape, squeezing until goosebumps break out all over my skin.

He flicks a forbidding glare in my direction and then holds his hand over my knife. Blue fire engulfs it. I make a sound of protest and cut it short when I see the blade isn’t melting, but it’s freezing. Ice crystals form along the edges, and it begins to glow.

It only takes seconds, and then everything fades, like when you stare into the sun too long. My eyes adjust, and I can’t see it anymore.

The only proof that he’s tampered with my knife is a deep sapphire shimmer that runs over the wood of the handle. He hands it back, hesitating before letting go.

“Think about fire or ice when you use it,” he says.

He turns and walks away .

“Wait!” I call out when he gets to the doorway. The prince turns back, raising one perfectly white eyebrow. “Thank you.”

He inclines his head with this regal nod that makes my stomach flutter. “I would not have you die, human Becky. You have done us a great service in facilitating our assimilation into this world.”

“You didn’t have to do this, though,” I protest.

“I did. I do. Those comments have been directed at you. I don’t understand yet what is happening, but I would not have you step into my world defenseless.”

“We’re not in your world,” I say.

“Yet,” Frost says evenly. I quaver under his knowledgeable stare. “Good evening.”

I’m left alone holding the knife that is both warm and cold in my hand. Am I nervous about what Frost is saying? Yes. It’s disconcerting to hear these creatures I never knew existed talking of me and my future so casually.

Am I worried?

I haven’t thought about it long enough to decide either way. What I am concerned about is that . I track the dark shadow on the roof as it makes its way down, creeping to the canvas bag and flicking its tongue along all the blades of my weapons.

He exhales with a shaky shudder and finally fixates the yellow eye on me. The black takes a moment longer, and then it, too, lands on me.

I’ll never let him see it, but every time Puppy looks at me, a frisson of fear slices through me, making my legs weak.

I have an urge in my mind to run or fight, but I remain motionless, captivated by him.

The sheen of his scales, the magnetic pulls of his gaze, the long thick tongue, his claws, and the easy way he moves.

He is alien and so very pretty.

Because as strong as the fear is, there is something else of equal power that isn’t fear at all.

As I think the word, it drags me out of my frozen state and allows time to move again. I let out a grunt when he moves sinuously, closing the distance between us.

“You will be my food,” he promises, his tongue flicking out across my face, pushing my lips open, then my teeth, and probing into my mouth.

I reach out, digging my nails into his shoulders, moving closer despite myself. The invasion, the forceful tasting of my mouth, leaves me feeling weak. Or is that a lack of air?

“PUPPY! ”

He draws back, snarling, and scrambles for the wall as Stix barrels in. He catches me as I spin on my feet and helps me to my knees while peering up at the dark corner. As soon as I’m steady, Stix springs at the wall, and the shadows vanish.

They should still be there because that’s where shadows belong, but they aren’t there.

Something fundamentally wrong with the lack of shadows.

I creep backwards towards the door and spin, stalking through it.

Wilder is loitering in the hallway. His eyes find me as I come out and track me as I stalk past him.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m…” I turn on my heel and peer up at him. “They stole the shadows that belong to the room. No, I’m not all right.”

Wilder nods his head. “The Shadow dimension has different laws than ours.”

Half of me wants to leave that statement the fuck alone, but the rest of me, the inquisitive, irritated, irrational side seizes it. “Shadow dimension?”

Wilder grunts and leads me into the kitchen. He rummages until he finds a packet of round biscuits. He pulls out one and places it on the table.

“Earth.” He places another one next to the Earth biscuit.

“The Fae world, or Faerie.” He pulls out a third and fourth biscuit and places them on the table, touching the edge of the Earth one.

“The Shadow dimension, and,” he pauses, looking at the last biscuit, and picks it up and puts it in his mouth.

“You don’t need to worry about that one.

But see how they all touch at the edges of your world.

We can cross into your world. You can cross into ours, but we can’t reach each other without passing through yours first. In order for the world to open to Faerie, enough people need to believe in magic.

With the shadows, people need to fear monsters.

When enough people believe, doors open, and we can slip through. ”

I stare at them, rapidly rearranging bits of information in my brain.

“This Shadow realm, what is it exactly?”

“Well, no one I know has ever been there.” Wilder steals the Faerie biscuit and shoves the whole thing in his mouth. “They are different from us. Our realm follows rules, hierarchies, and codes. They are crass, undisciplined, they fight and kill, it’s a brutal place by human recollections.”

“Huh. Why are you all here?” I scratch my head. With every question I answer, a million more pop up .

“I followed a bird. It was a tiny black bird with a long, wagging tail and a blue head. I followed it until I hit a concrete river that was hard like stone. Diablos found me after that. I could not get back, but, then again, I did not want to.”

“It was time. I was bored, and I wanted to find something more,” Stix says and brushes a hand down my spine. I shiver at his touch and wonder how he managed to sneak into the room soundlessly.

“I was trying to escape my older brother’s orders to kill me.

He owed me a favour, and our father had given him an unavoidable command.

So I left,” Frost says darkly and pulls open the packet of biscuits and grabs a handful.

I stare at the sad prince and have to fight to resist the urge to reach out to him.

“Puppy?” I ask. “How did you come here?”

“I smelled you,” Puppy says from the corner of the roof. “I followed the sweet stench of your fear.”

That steals my brain cells for a few moments. My Grim followed me out of his world? That shouldn’t be so romantic.

“All right, so Diablos found you, and what, he forced you into conscripting for his strange new law enforcement agency?”

“No, he asked us to help him. Diablos was a revered demon in my world,” Stix says and passes me the last biscuit. “But it was more a need to be here. To help save the omegas. If there was any chance, I needed to be here.”

“But why team the four of you together?”

“Because we’re the strongest that has passed through. It’s only logical,” Frost says.

I reach down and touch the handle of the knife on my belt. It gives me some strength.

“Diablos has a theory.”

I peer at Stix, who suddenly has the room’s whole attention.

“He believes that creatures from my world came across years ago and have been infiltrating the world and your society. This person in charge has been catching anyone weaker who comes through and collaring them. Growing the army.”

“For what?” I ask. I pause. “Barcoding them?”

“I have no idea.” Stix shakes his head and smiles slightly. “I guess that’s why we’re all here.”

Puppy snorts. “I’m here to eat things.”

I must be getting used to him because his comments aren’t even getting a rise out of me anymore .

“Speaking of our eloquent leader,” Frost says. “I received this message on the fon contraption.”

It takes me a moment. “Oh, phone?” I reach for it and open it up, showing the message.

“He says the community centre is safe, Stix’s report has been filed.

” I narrow my eyes on the long-limbed demon.

“Why didn’t I have to report?” I look back at the phone.

“He has another job for us by the docks. A complete shift of dock workers went missing three hours ago, well, that’s five now.

One was particularly showing signs of being an omega. ”

“I hate water.”

I slide my eyes to the sulking Grim. Noted, you fucker.

“All right, so we should head out before it gets darker.”

“Indeed.”

“Here,” Stix says and hands me my jacket. I slip my arms into it and turn, finding him staring down at me.

“You are very compelling, poppet.”

He reaches out, gripping my waist, and smirks.

“You’re travelling with me this time.”

I barely have time to open my mouth before he walks us straight into the wall. Darkness that is so heavy it’s hard to breathe presses in on me, seeking to crush the life out of me, but Stix hisses, and it eases back a bit.

His long limbs carry us forward, slicing through the darkness like its water. It parts for him, and then there’s a light in the distance. There is something so liquid about the way he moves. It’s a very disconcerting way to travel, but I can’t help but find it thrilling.

A light that is pale and not very bright, and then I’m standing on the docks, staring out at the ocean.

I turn back and throw my arms around the Shadow King. He hesitates a moment and then hugs me back.

“That was outstanding,” I whisper.

“My pleasure.”