Monstrous (6 page)

“That does not make sense at all. If they were friends with the dragons, why would the wizards hunt them?”

Father turns to face me. “Well, my dear, that is the tricky thing about power. People tend to want more of it. These wizards were still human, after all. They discovered that when the dragons died, all their powers transferred to those closest to them. And if they killed the dragons themselves, it sped up the process. Dragons can live for hundreds of years. Why wait around for one to die, when you could kill it right away? The more magic the wizards absorbed, the easier killing dragons became. They have all but disappeared now.” He taps a finger to his chin. “Though I did once hear a rumor that a dragon lived somewhere in the vicinity of Bryre. It would not surprise me at all if that was the reason our wizard came here in the first place.”

“What an awful thing,” is all I can say through my
scowl. Poor dragons. Trusting those men to be their friends, even sharing their magic, however accidentally, only to be murdered by the very same.

Father pulls a few bottles off the shelves and begins shaking drops on the chicken's patched-up body. The flesh sucks them in like the sponges I use to wash the dishes.

“Are there fountains in Belladoma? The laughing cherubs on the one I saw last night were so funny.” I need to change the subject before I get angry. Despite what the wizards may have done, I must save the people of Bryre, tonight and every night.

“There are fountains and pools and gardens. Everything is green and bright as the mountains you must cross to get there.”

My chest swells with pride. We will take these girls to that paradise. We will save them all. “I wish I could see it. It sounds perfect.”

Father stops his work to squeeze my shoulder. “Someday, my dear, you will.”

My eyes widen. “Really? I can?”

“Of course. After the wizard is gone, we will spend the rest of our days there.”

“When can we take the girl? I want to see it!”

Father's face darkens. “You misunderstand, child. We cannot take her there ourselves. It is too long a journey and we are needed here. My friend Darrell will take her.”

Disappointment sets in. Father's friend . . . “Is that the man who was scared of me?”

Father snorts. “It is. But as long as you don't appear as
fearsome as the first time, we will not need to worry about that happening again.”

“I will not, I promise.” I clasp my hands behind my back. “If we cannot go with them, can I at least have a fountain? For my garden?” I switch to my blue irises and smile hopefully.

“Bring back a few more girls and I will see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Father!” I flap my wings happily, sending a plume of herbs skyward from an open bottle on the nearby shelf.

“Yes, yes, now go take this chicken”—he places the stirring beast on the stone floor—“and introduce her to her new friends.”

I marvel at the creature pecking at the floor of the tower. Father is good at fixing broken things. I believe he could fix anything. Even our broken city.

While Father returns to the cottage, I let the chicken out in the yard and it clucks and paws the ground with the others. They move fast with their hooves, sometimes galloping in spurts when they get too excited. Just as they begin to do now. I sniff the air. Something has changed; a faintly recognizable odor pierces the hedge.

Someone is coming. I run inside to alert Father and grab my cloak. I do not wish to frighten anyone. I must be presentable. I fasten the clasp around my neck, but the bolts still show. I frown, not wishing to remain hooded on such a warm day.

“Father!” I cry. “Someone is coming through the hedge.”

He appears in the hallway. “Thank you, my dear.” He pauses when he sees me holding my cloak up over my neck, the only way I can think of to hide the bolts and not wear a hood.

“Wait here, I have something that will help.” He vanishes into his bedroom. I barely have time to wonder what he could be fetching for me when he reappears holding out a strip of black satin with a red carving of a rose affixed to it.

“It is beautiful,” I breathe.

“I gave it to your mother, long ago,” he says as he fastens the choker around my neck. It covers the bolts perfectly. I run my finger over the carving. I will cherish this; it is all I have left of my mother.

Father takes my arm, leading me into the yard to greet our guest. A man drives a small cart that has a box with bars on the back into our yard. I startle as I recognize him.

It is the same man I terrified the other day. I grip Father's arm tighter. Given his reaction, I am more than a little wary, despite what Father says.

He slides off the cart, waving to Father and tipping his wide-brimmed hat to me. “Allo, there, Barnabas. Is this your little secret weapon?” The man winks and something tightens deep in the pit of my stomach. He may be Father's friend, but something about him does not sit well with me. Perhaps it is just leftover uneasiness from the first meeting.

Father pats my arm. “She is indeed. My greatest creation yet.”

The man approaches and peers at my face, his eyes widening. “Barnabas, you have outdone yourself. She looks completely different, except for those eyes.”

“Yes, she is different enough that the city dwellers will not recognize her if they catch a glimpse.”

I squeeze Father's arm. Why should this man be surprised by how I look?

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” he says, his hazel eyes meeting mine. His face is dusty and lined, though he is younger than Father. He does not appear to remember me from our first meeting. I am less wild now than at our initial encounter. Perhaps he did not get as good a look at me as I feared.

The man bows and pries my hand off Father's arm to kiss it. I do my best not to pull away, but my claws unsheathe on instinct at the unfamiliar touch.

“What is this?” he yells as he jumps back.

Oh no, I have been bad again! I retract my claws and smile widely, hoping he will calm down as fast as the last time. Father places a hand on his shoulder with a firm grip. “It is all right, Darrell. There is nothing to fear. It was just a trick of the light.”

The man's expression slackens. Then he chuckles and wipes his brow. “Well, that right scared me. Sorry, young lady, I must not be getting enough sleep.” He adjusts his hat. “Where is our cargo?”

“Kymera, go and fetch the girl, will you? Be sure she is asleep. Darrell will be taking her on a long journey.” Father gives me a meaningful look and I know what he wants me
to do. I wish the girl did not have to sleep all the time, but Father has his reasons. It is for the best.

I retreat to the tower, glancing over my shoulder to see the heads of Father and the man bent together in deep conversation. The man frowns in my direction more than once. I wonder if he really believes my claws were just a trick of the light.

I climb the tower stairs, smiling at the knowledge of Father's laboratory hiding in the basement. The girl still sleeps and I lift her easily. I take the second rose left on the bed and tuck it behind her ear. She will have many flowers and joys where she is going, but I hope she will keep it and remember me and Father and all that we have given her.

When I return, Father and Darrell lean against the metal bars of the strange cart. Father beams at me as I near. Darrell smiles, but not in the same kind way as Father. Try as I might, I am not warming up to this man.

Darrell opens a section of the bars and gestures for me to place the girl inside. A few pillows and some straw line the bottom. Not as nice as the room I prepared in the tower, but fewer frills are needed for traveling. I rest her body on the pillows, smoothing her hair and clothes.

“Perfect,” Darrell says as he closes the door of bars and secures a sheet of canvas over them. “She'll be right safe in there.” He turns to Father. “A pleasure doing business with you all, but I must be off. Those mountains won't travel themselves.” With a tip of his hat, he jumps up to the seat atop the cart and whips his horse.

“Come, Kymera, it is time to start dinner.” Father squeezes my shoulder and heads into the cottage.

I watch the cart disappear into the thick hedge, then close my eyes and wait until the smell of the girl and the strange man dissipates.

TONIGHT, THE MOON IS AN AIR DRAGON, CHASING ME HOME AS I RUN
through the trees. In my books, dragons like to eat maidens. My latest rescue is secured around me by my cloak, sleeping soundly. She has pretty red locks that float like wisps in the night air. I am the hero who stole her out of the claws of the dragon. Yet I feel for them both. The dragon must be starving, but the girl surely does not wish to get eaten. I, a creature stronger than the humans, will lead the dragon-moon astray and into the path of other prey. Perhaps a nice fox would do.

I dodge another moonbeam. Then I halt in my tracks near the opening to the hedge surrounding our home.

What was that noise?

I hold my breath and wait—

Squawking.

It sounds like our chickens. But why would they be awake at this time of night? They never rise before the sun. I flutter a few inches off the ground so I can pass through the hedge without making a sound. I am not sure why—they are only chickens, after all—but something inside my brain insists caution is the best idea.

I pause at the edge of our yard, jaw dropping open.

The girl I took last night trips and stumbles around the yard. The goat-footed chickens zoom after her, pecking at her feet and making the terrible noise I heard from the woods. Her brown hair whips around her shoulders and face as she dodges their beaks.

How did she get out? I must stop her—if she leaves the safety of our home, the wizard could get her. I cannot let that happen.

I untie my cloak and set my sleeping burden down softly on the grass.

“Stop!” I yell as I take to the air and swoop toward the girl. When she sees me, her eyes go wide and she screams. The chickens swarm and overwhelm her. She falls to the ground, but the chickens do not stop pecking. I try to shoo them, but they are so frenzied, they even peck me. A bead of blood blooms on my hand. I stare at it for a moment, then realize specks of blood cover the screaming, crying girl before me. I throw my head back and howl, claws drawn and cat's eyes out.

The chickens flee.

The girl raises her head from between her arms.
Something in her sharp blue eyes makes my breath choke off. Her gaze is not like that of the other girls. It is . . . stronger.
Fierce
is the word that pops into my head.

She scrambles to her feet and runs toward the hedge. “Stop!” I cry. “Stop! You cannot leave. It is for your safety. The wizard might capture you!”

I am not certain, but I think the noise she makes in response is a laugh. I fly into her path, stopping her before she reaches the hedge.

She skitters back, looking wildly about for another route to escape. “Don't touch me,” she cries. “He can't have me.”

“I am sorry, but that is exactly why you must stay.” My tail swings out and stings her in the arm. Father was right; they never understand what we do for them. She slumps to the ground, but I sting her other arm for good measure. She must have woken up early in order to get loose like that, so I suspect a stronger dose is necessary until we can get her to Belladoma and true safety.

I scoop her up and take her back to the tower. Scratches and peck marks cover her body. I will have to ask Father for a healing salve. The poor thing had no idea what she was doing.

But what I do not understand is why the goat-chickens attacked her. What did she do to provoke them?

I set her down in one of the four beds in the tower room, tucking a blanket around her limp body. When I reach the yard again, Father hovers over my latest retrieval.

“Ah, there you are, girl. What happened out here?”
Father gestures to the torn-up front yard and the wandering chickens.

I frown. “I am not sure. When I arrived home, I found last night's girl running around the yard with the chickens chasing her and making a horrible noise. I had to sting her—twice!”

Father rubs his chin. “Hmm. We shall have to be more careful. Perhaps you should dose them more often, just to be safe. Bring this one inside, and then we will have to round up the chickens.”

“Of course, Father.” I pick up the red-haired girl, then pause. “Why would she try to leave?”

He puts a hand on my back between my wings and guides me toward the tower. “She wanted to return to Bryre, no doubt.”

My brow furrows. “But why would she want to go back to where the wizard held her captive?” Indeed this seems quite at odds with her words.

“She has family there, my dear. And love of one's family can make people do the most incredible things.”

I smile. “Like bringing your daughter back to life?”

“Exactly. But in this girl's case, we must do what we can to protect her from herself. She must not return to Bryre until we have stopped the wizard. We cannot expect the girls to always understand, but we must help them anyway.”