Beast Keeper

by Lucy Coats

  For Findlay, Lochlan, and Paloma,

  from their Grande-Tante Ancienne

  GROSSET & DUNLAP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) LLC, 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

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  Text copyright © 2015 by Lucy Coats. Illustrations copyright © 2015 by Brett Bean. All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) LLC. Printed in the USA.

  Library of Congress Cataloging–in–Publication Data is available.

  ISBN 978-0-698-40346-8

  Version_1

  Contents

  Dedication

  Copyright

  Title page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Glossary

  About the Author and Illustrator

  CHAPTER 1

  THE GOD FATHER

  Demon was chatting to the chickens about eggs when his dad arrived. He’d never met his dad before, but he knew it was him all right. His dad had:

  Thick, hairy, goaty legs.

  Big curly horns.

  Yellow eyes with black, slitted pupils.

  No clothes to speak of.

  And a set of silver reed pipes.

  Demon’s dad was a god.

  “Foxgodfoxgodfoxgodrunrunrunsquawwwwkkkk!” The chickens scattered across the yard, gabbling and squawking in terror. Demon kneeled in the dirt and bowed his head. He wasn’t too sure if that’s what you did with a dad, but it was certainly what you did with a god. Especially if that god was Pan, ruler of forests and all wild creatures. A god who could call up a pack of hungry bears that could rip you to bits in an instant.

  “Pandemonius, my boy!” said his dad. Pan’s voice was like mossy bark on ancient trees. It was deep and velvety with a hint of crumbly roughness at the edges.

  Even though it was Demon’s real name, no one ever called him Pandemonius. Even the mountain wolves called him Demon—and they tended to be rather formal in their speech. Demon was about to tell his dad how silly his full name sounded, when he felt a pair of huge hands under his armpits. He was lifted up into a god hug that smelled of pungent green things like goaty musk and old, stale blood.

  “Good to meet you at last, my son. C’mon, let’s find your dear mother, Carys, and get your things together. Haven’t seen her in far too long. Not since you arrived in the world, in fact. By Zeus’s beard, how time flies.”

  About two minutes later, a confused Demon found himself in the corner of the hut he shared with his mother. As he packed his few possessions into a bundle, he could see his dad whispering in his mom’s ear. When she’d seen Demon and his father walk in together, she dropped her best herb-chopping knife on the hard dirt floor. It nearly cut off her big toe. Now she kept saying, “But, but, but,” in a high-pitched voice. She sounded like Demon’s little black lamb, Barley, did when he wanted milk. She might as well have kept quiet. Pan stomped over her buts like a charging centaur.

  “Pandemonius is coming with me,” he said at last. “And that’s final. You don’t want to offend the gods by refusing to let him go, now, do you?”

  There was nothing much his mom could say to that, really. Mortals who offended gods usually ended up as little piles of scorched ash, or trees, or rocks. In the end, Pan dragged Demon forcibly out the door without more than a quick good-bye kiss and hug. A weeping Carys was left behind them waving a damp hankie.

  Demon felt like crying, too. His mom was his whole family. He felt a fat, bumpy lump swelling bigger and bigger in his throat until he nearly couldn’t breathe. He didn’t dare ask where he was being taken, or what for. Even if he had dared, he didn’t know what to call his father, anyway. Your Godness? Your Holiness? Your Dadness? Until a few minutes ago, he’d been an ordinary eleven-year-old boy, living with his mom near an ordinary village in the middle of Arcadia. He spent his days looking after the goats and sheep and chickens, and hoeing the vegetables.

  Although the fact that he could talk to animals was out of the ordinary. Everyone around his home knew he was the child of a god, and things like that happened to half-god kids. No one took much notice, really, except for the local farmers calling him in when their beasts were sick. Demon could find out what was wrong so his mom could say what herbs to prescribe for them. All the farmers got used to hearing Demon tell them that a sheep was saying, “My belly hurts,” instead of just “Baaaaah.” Now he was being wrenched away from everything he knew, all in an instant, by a father he didn’t even know how to speak to.

  When they got to the edge of the forest, Pan stopped.

  “IRIS!” The god bellowed. “EXPRESS FOR TWO! OLYMPUS BOUND!”

  Demon felt his fat, bumpy throat lump get bigger still. Olympus? Why was he being taken to Olympus? That was where all the gods lived. What were they going to do to him? A horrid thought hit his brain like a speeding arrow. He couldn’t remember if the gods still liked human sacrifices or not. Perhaps that was what he was wanted for. Only . . . why had he packed all his stuff if they were just going to kill him? It wasn’t like Zeus was going to want his spare cloak, was it? Just then, right in front of his eyes, a rainbow burst from the sky and landed at their feet.

  “Hop on, son,” said Pan. “Hold tight to me. The Iris Express can go a bit fast if you’re not used to it.”

  Demon did as he was told. He squeezed his eyes shut and hung on to Pan’s big hairy waist. He felt his stomach drop away behind him. There was a loud whooshing sound and a strong smell of flowers. Wild roses, he thought, sniffing cautiously. He opened one eye a crack and looked down. Then he wished he hadn’t. He was standing on a see-through wisp of rainbow that was whizzing up in an arch into the sky. The earth was getting smaller and smaller behind him. The whole of Greece was laid out below like a wiggly green-and-amber hand in a dark purple pool of sea. He was just about to scream with terror when there was another whoosh and a thump. They burst through a misty barrier and landed.

  “Here we are,” said Pan. He strode down off the rainbow toward some shining white temples.

  Everything was enormous and very clean on Olympus (though Demon could smell an odd and rather nasty sort of pooey stench in the air). There were all kinds of nymphs and cherubs flitting about among gigantic multicolored blooms and trees with bunches of silvery golden fruit hanging from them. Demon had to run to keep up with Pan. His bundle banged against his back. Suddenly, he felt really angry. How dare his dad just turn up and kidnap him like this without telling him anything? It wasn’t fair! If he was going to be sizzled and frizzled as a sacrifice, he wanted to know why.
/>   “Hey!” Demon yelled. “Hey, you! Stop!”

  Pan stopped. He turned around very slowly, his eyes flashing green fire. The nymphs and cherubs flicked out of sight rather abruptly.

  “Are you yelling ‘Hey, you!’ at ME, boy?” he asked, very quietly.

  Demon gulped a bit, but he wasn’t going to back down. He nodded. His mom always said his worst fault was that he never knew when to be polite and keep his mouth shut in front of his elders and betters, but this time he just didn’t care.

  “Yes . . . um, sir—Your Godness-Pan-Dad. I w-want to know w-what you’re g-going to d-do to me.” Demon didn’t want his voice to stammer and stumble, but it seemed to have a mind of its own. He cleared his throat and tried again. “If I’m going to be a sacrifice to the gods, I think you should have let me say good-bye to Mom properly first. She’s going to be really upset with you when I’m dead.”

  Pan looked at him. The green eye fire died, and his mouth opened in a great windy gust of laughter that nearly knocked Demon backward.

  “Sacrifice to the gods? Is that what you thought you were here for? My own son? Did you hear that, nymphs, a SACRIFICE? That’s a good one!” He laughed some more, and the nymphs and cherubs flicked into view again, looking relieved. Pan scratched at a curly horn and ran a hand through his wild hair. Bits of bark, twig, and dead leaf fell out in showers. “By Zeus’s toenails! I told your dear mom, but I forgot I hadn’t told you. C’mon, boy, follow me, quick as you can. I think it’s high time I took you to see the Stables of the Gods.”

  CHAPTER 2

  THE STABLES OF THE GODS

  The Stables of the Gods were extremely smelly. There was no getting around it. The long, tall building stank like a mixture of centuries-old dead fish and a thousand years of ancient poo. There was a roaring rumpus of beasts and monsters in every pen and stable. The noise was indescribably loud. Pan backed out of the Stables and put his hands over his hairy ears. He beckoned Demon over to a bench under a tree a little way away, where it was a bit quieter. He still had to shout, though.

  “All the gods and goddesses are complaining about the stink getting into their clothes—and the racket is spoiling everyone’s sleep. Old Silenus the satyr looked after the beasts for ages, but then he annoyed Hera one time too many. So she got Zeus to banish him down to earth. A place called Lydia, I think, near some king’s palace. Dionysus got him out of trouble there, too . . . Anyway, then I had one of my fauns look after the Stables, but he got bitten by a basilisk. Since then it’s all gone to Hades a bit.” He cleared his throat. “Zeus asked me to find someone who was good with animals. I thought you might like to have a go at the job. You’ve done pretty well with mortal beasts, and immortal creatures aren’t so very different—barring a fang or two.”

  Demon opened his mouth, then shut it again. He didn’t know what to say. But he felt quite relieved that he wasn’t going to be a sacrifice.

  Pan went on. “Zeus and the others are prepared to give you a trial run as a stable boy to see if you’re any good at it—and we’ll set you up with a magical healing thingamajig so you don’t get killed in the first five minutes. If you’re a success, you’ll get an official title and some proper pay. What do you say, boy? Will you give it a go?” Demon looked at his dad. There was bound to be a catch—there always was with gods. His mom had drummed that into him since he was tiny.

  “Do I get a choice?” he asked.

  Pan looked at him and smiled widely. His teeth were square and yellow and flecked with green and red. “I know how much you love animals, and how they love you back. Of course you have a choice.” He paused here and smiled a little wider—a dangerous smile this time. “But on the other hand, if you offend all the Olympians by refusing even to give it a try . . .”

  He didn’t have to say any more than that. Demon knew he was stuck with the job for now, whether he wanted it or not. And it was true what his dad had said—he did love animals. Perhaps it would be okay. It might even be exciting. “What do I have to do?” he asked.

  “Hephaestus will fill you in,” said Pan. “He’s the smith god, you know. Clever fellow with his hands. He makes all sorts of marvelous thingies for us. I’ll take you to meet him now. Maybe if you ask nicely, he’ll lend you one of his metal men to help with the clean-up.” He sniffed, his large nostrils flaring like a hound on a scent. “Don’t take too long to get rid of the smell, or the goddesses are bound to come after you. Best not tempt them.”

  On this comforting thought, he turned and walked away. Demon followed him, trying hard not to think of angry goddesses.

  Hephaestus turned out to live inside a mountain. He was hammering at his forge when Pan and Demon walked in.

  “Just a minute,” he yelled. “Got to finish this sword for Ares. He’s always breaking them in one of his idiotic wars. The crazy fool.”

  Demon watched with amazement.

  Hephaestus grabbed the blazing metal with his bare hands, as a creature that seemed to be made of gold and silver pumped the bellows.

  “One of my automaton robots,” shouted Hephaestus when he saw Demon looking at the metal creature. “I made it a while ago to help in the forge. Not much for chatting, but it’s great at keeping the heat steady. I’ve got lots of different kinds. Useful creatures, these robots.”

  There was a final clang, and the smith god put down his tools.

  “Ah,” he continued. “Young Pandemonius, is it? We’ve all heard about you and the wonders you’re going to perform in the Stables. Your dad’s been singing your praises, you know. Very proud of you. Chip off the old block, eh?”

  Pan cleared his throat and looked embarrassed (if a god could look embarrassed).

  “I’ve got to go now,” Demon’s father said. “There’s trouble with my satyrs in Caria—always fighting, those boys. Look after my son, Heffy. Don’t want him eaten! Now, Pandemonius. You do what Hephaestus tells you. He’ll sort you out. Give you what you need to get started, that sort of thing. I’ll come and see you again when I can.”

  Pan fumbled in what seemed to be a pocket in his hairy thigh, pulled out a battered set of reed pipes, and handed them to Demon. “My spare set. Good for calming awkward beasts. Just tootle away and they should settle down. Be careful,” he said. “It doesn’t always work on all of them, so you take care.” He patted Demon on the head, nearly knocking him over, and turned away.

  Demon felt the bumpy throat lump come back. He hadn’t known his dad was proud of him, or that Pan had been watching over him. It made him go a bit warm and fuzzy inside, but now he just hoped he wasn’t going to mess it all up. Immortal beasts were going to be very different from chickens and goats, whatever his dad thought.

  “Now,” said Hephaestus in a voice that was meant to be reassuring but somehow wasn’t, “sit on this barrel here and have a cup of ambrosia. Then we’ll go and get you settled in.” He handed Demon a goblet full of golden liquid that smelled wonderful. Unfortunately it didn’t taste quite as good as it smelled, and Demon spat it out at once.

  “Ugh!” he said, spluttering. “What’s that? It’s really disgusting.”

  “That’s the food of the gods,” Hephaestus said. “Ambrosia, we call it—comes in both liquid and cake form. You might like the cake more. You’d better get used to it, boy, because it’s all there is up here unless it’s a feast day. Anyway, it’s good for you. Makes you stronger than normal mortals. Gives you muscles like a hero. Ah, that reminds me. Better give you one of my healing charms, or your puny mortal body won’t last any time at all in the Stables.”

  He walked over to a shelf and took down a thin bronze collar shaped like two coiled snakes biting their own tails. The snakes had ruby eyes and seemed to writhe as Demon looked at them.

  “Put this around your neck. The snakes are called Offy and Yukus. They’ll sort out pretty much anything in the way of bites or stings or anything some of those vicious creatur
es will throw at you. Just try not to get your head chomped off. That’ll be almost impossible for them to mend. Now, let’s go and get you introduced to the Stables properly.”

  CHAPTER 3

  THE BEASTLY BEASTS

  As Demon curled up in a pile of straw that night, he knew he had never been more exhausted. Hephaestus had pointed out which creature was which and shown him where the brooms and buckets and pitchforks and wheelbarrows were. He explained how to get to the muckheap and how to use the magic chute that sent all the poo down to feed the hundred-armed monsters in Tartarus, and then left him to it.

  “There’s a loft above the unicorns. You can sleep there,” Hephaestus had said. “I think the faun left his blanket. The nymphs come around with fresh ambrosia cakes for you and leftovers for the beasts twice a day—and you can get water from the naiad’s spring outside. Remember to thank Melanie the naiad, though, or she’ll cover you in waterweed. If you have any problems, come and find me.” He’d waved a casual hand and walked out, leaving Demon all alone in the midst of the noise and chaos—and the smell.

  Demon had put his bundle down and just stood there. “Talk about being thrown in the deep end,” he muttered resentfully. There was just so much to take in and sort out. He’d never seen so many different beasts—most of them dangerous, magical, and with hard-to-remember names. He needed to think. “SHUT UP!” he bawled. To his surprise, it worked. Kind of. The noise fell by at least a quarter. “Thank you. Now let’s sort this mess out. Who’s the smelliest? I’m going to start with them.” Immediately the noise rose to a higher pitch than ever. But Demon could hear two words being repeated over and over in lots of strange and different voices.

  “STINKY COWS! STINKY COWS! STINKY COWS!”

  He looked down the Stables and saw a huge pen of rather shamefaced horned heads hanging over the rails. They were the famous Cattle of the Sun, resting after months of being dragged back from the lands of Geryon, the giant slain by the famous hero Heracles.