Monstrous

by MarcyKate Connolly

  The door of the cottage squeaks open and I grin at Father. Watching the roses always makes me happy. It does not hurt that today is my final day of training.

  Tonight, at last, I will understand my purpose. I am floating at the prospect.

  He hands me my cloak. “From now on, my child, you must take care to always wear this when you leave the safety of our cottage.” He swings it over my shoulders and fastens it at my neck. It catches on one of the bolts, but Father fixes it.

  “So the humans will not see the parts that would scare them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was it my wings or the blood that frightened your friend?”

  Father laughs. “Both, I imagine.”

  “I am sorry. I did not know he would be here.”

  Father pats my shoulder. “Neither did I. He will not drop in uninvited again. You do not need to worry.”

  “Oh, good.” I skip toward the hedge. “What are we doing for my training today?” Each day has brought different tasks. At first, an obstacle course to test my coordination. Then my speed and efficiency. Then hunting. I have not yet decided whether I like hunting. Though I am quite sure I like rabbit.

  “Today, we will see how you do with blending in and being stealthy.”

  “But I did stealthy yesterday,” I say as we enter the path in the hedge.

  “That was with rabbits. Today, we will see how you do with humans.” He takes me by the shoulders. “Humans fear what they do not understand. They will not understand you. They will be frightened if they see your tail or wings, and you must take care to conceal them.”

  He adjusts my cloak and I stand up straighter.

  “Keep your wings furled close to your back, like a second skin. Keep your tail beneath your skirts and do not let it slip out for any reason.”

  I curl my tail around my thigh. “Like this?”

  He holds me at arm’s length to inspect me. “Exactly. You always were a fast learner, my dear.” He turns back to the path, but I pause.

  “What if someone does see my wings or tail? What should I do?”

  He is at my side in two steps, gripping my shoulders hard. “You will do what your instincts demand—then you will flee. Fly straight here before they can follow you. Do you understand?”

  Father’s eyes have a look I have never seen in them before. Intense. Determined. Yet something there reminds me of the rabbit I cornered yesterday. I cannot help wondering why.

  “I understand.”

  His grip relaxes and we continue down the path. “Good girl. I knew you would.”

  “What will my instincts do in such a situation?” I am afraid to ask. I am unsettled by what my instincts did to that rabbit.

  “You need not worry. They will take over.”

  “That is what worries me.”

  “You are not a mere human. You have animal parts and they know what to do. Your barbed tail will neutralize any threat and your wings will help you escape.” He tousles my black hair. “You are the perfect creation. I should know; I made you.”

  Father’s explanation sounds simple. Instinct should not be hard to master.

  When we reach the forest Father checks me one more time. He leads me in a new direction, one we haven’t taken before on our walks.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “To the road. We must see how well you can stay hidden in plain sight from travelers.”

  “Will I be doing a lot of hiding in the days to come?” I say, hoping for a hint of my purpose.

  “More than I wish, but yes.”

  “Will I ever be able to walk freely among humans?” I speak the words without thinking and my heart hitches as I utter them. The human girl I once was must wish this. But surely I do not. I only need Father and my roses to be happy.

  “I do not know, Kymera, but this is not the time to worry about it. We have more pressing concerns.” He points to a man and a wagon pulled by a small horse. “Your next training session has begun.”

  Heat rises up my back and down to the barbed tip of my tail. I will meet this challenge, whatever it is, and make Father proud.

  “What must I do?”

  He smiles. “Get by him without attracting attention.”

  The distance between us and the man grows shorter with every step. I focus on keeping my tail secure and my wings as flat as possible. I hold my breath until I begin to feel dizzy. He tilts his head at us, then returns his attention to the road and his horse.

  I did it! I want to leap in the air with joy, but I resist for fear of alarming the man we passed. I bubble over on the inside.

  “Well done, girl,” Father says. “Now, keep that up along this entire road.”

  “How many more will we pass?” I squint at him in the sunlight. This is the most open space I’ve been in yet. It is as though the sun has direct access to my skin, even through the suffocating cloak.

  “As many as it takes to reach Bryre’s gates and back.”

  We pass several more men and horses and wagons on the dusty open road, as well as a handful of women and children. They come in an assortment of shapes and sizes and colors, but not one of them in as many colors and shapes as me. Not one with a tail. No wings in sight but those of the birds circling overhead. No cat’s eyes to see in the dark, no armored scales or claws.

  I am very different from these people.

  In more ways than just appearance. Something about them, the way they move, perhaps, is different. Their shoulders are more bent and bony. Their skin is dirtier. Their eyes less gleaming than Father’s and mine.

  I halt in the middle of the road as I recognize the expressions for what they are. They are depressed. Burdened.

  “Why are these people unhappy?” I ask Father.

  “It is the wizard’s doing. He spoils their crops and steals their children. The people are miserable. They need a savior.” He takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “They need you. In your first life, your friends and neighbors in the city were precious to you. You were well known for your kind nature. Do not forget that. Even if they fear you, curse you, or attack you.”

  “I will not forget it. Ever.” It is true. The spark of a long-distant memory kindles at Father’s words. I cannot remember names or faces, but that emotion, that drive to do what is best for Bryre, remains inside me. I want to help these people. I want them to smile at the sun’s rays and have all the roses they need to be happy. This is the first hint at my purpose.

  If it is to help them, I will do it with joy.

  We approach a turn in the road and Father slows his pace.

  “It is time to see how you fare on your own,” he says, leading me toward a small grove of trees near the bend. “I will rest for a few moments in the shade, hidden by the trees. You, my dear, will wait several paces before the turn. When you hear someone approaching, walk around the corner in time to pass them.”

  I frown, not quite understanding Father’s reasons. “But they will not see me until they are right on me. The trees block that small stretch of road.”

  “Exactly. They will be surprised. You must keep your wits about you and not let them know what you are.”

  I am still confused, but I do as he says and walk to the point farthest from the bend where the trees conceal me from approaching travelers. I close my eyes and listen, letting my animal senses take over.

  A hawk flies above, air rushing over its wings. The sun beats down on my face, making me wish I could remove my cloak. But Father has been clear about that. Behind me, the rumble of the last horse and cart retreats. The breeze rounds the corner and flows over me. I smell cinnamon and musk. One is a man, the other I suspect to be a woman. Uneven footsteps approach. I creep forward and moments later a young woman hurries around the corner, eyes cast down and hands clenching her cloak closed, without giving me a second glance.

  I frown. Her movements remind me of the rabbit’s. Quick and panicked. Something inside rears its head. This woman is scared. I must know what f
rightened her. I continue around the bend, ignoring Father’s instructions. I will go back once I determine the cause.

  I see only a young man. He does not look frightening. I pause, making sure no one else is in sight.

  When I turn back, the young man grins. Something about it chills me. Perhaps it is that strange glint in his eyes. Or the manner in which he walks toward me. His gait appears nonchalant, but it is faster than I think and he stands in front of me before I have taken two breaths. Before I decide what to do.

  I should have run back to Father. Where is he? Why did he leave me to face this unsettling man alone? How will this help save the unhappy people?

  “Hello, miss,” the man says. His breath smells bitter and strange. “It is far too hot for a girl so pretty to be wrapped up in that cloak.” His unpleasant smile widens and my heart races. I do not want to be near this man. “Why don’t you take it off?”

  I shake my head. “I must go.” I head to the trees, but he grabs my wrist, twisting me back around.

  It takes me a full five seconds to realize my tail has whipped around and stung the man in the center of his chest. By then his body has hit the ground and the smile has slipped off his face. My hands shake so hard, I have trouble retracting my claws. When did those come out?

  Footsteps echo behind me. I hiss, spinning into a crouch.

  It is Father. I straighten and my pulse reverts to its normal pace. “I did not mean to sting him. It just happened.” I gape at my hands. “I am not even sure how.”

  He pulls me into an embrace and I breathe in his honeyed smell. A heaviness descends on my chest. “Did I fail my test?” Father pushes me back and cups my face in his hands.

  “You were perfect.”

  I stare at the motionless man on the ground, stunned. “I was?”

  “Yes, my child. That man was a threat and you nullified it.” He glances down. “Quite efficiently, I might add.”

  “How did I know to do that?”

  “That, my dear, is instinct.”

  Instinct is an odd thing. I am sure I will be on intimate terms with it soon, but I am uncertain how I feel about my body reacting without my consent. The man no longer looks at me in that unpleasant manner, but I feel sorry for him. He had no idea what I could do. He would not have approached me if he had known.

  I suppose that is what stealth is. Both reaching something undetected and hiding in plain sight like I did today.

  My head begins to hurt.

  “Come, help me move him to the side of the road.”

  I tilt my head. “Why?”

  Father grimaces. “So if another traveler comes down this road before he wakes, they will only think he is a stupid drunk. No one needs to know what you are capable of yet.”

  I grab his legs while Father takes his arms, and we drag the limp body into the shade of the trees. The ground under my feet rumbles and when I have set the man down, I wander back to the road.

  Two black horses tear down the path, their heavy hooves churning the dirt into dust clouds. Behind them a man in a cart struggles to maintain his hold on the reins. The hitch snaps and the horses’ speed increases. I gape, shock rooting me to the spot, as they barrel toward me.

  “Kym!” Father shouts, dragging me off the road. My heart flails in my chest as the huge animals race by us. My cloak billows in their wake. Father clutches me to him until I stop shaking.

  “Next time,” he whispers, “if something that large bears down on you, run. Promise me.”

  “Yes, I will,” I say, troubled. “Should instinct have guided me to do that? Why did it fail me?” Indeed, all I felt was frozen, unmovable.

  “Sometimes, when we are caught by surprise, it can mute our natural instincts. That is why you must take care, my dear, to always be aware of your surroundings. Never let your guard down for a moment.”

  “I promise.” I mean it. This strange world outside our cottage requires the utmost attention to navigate, and I am determined to do it well.

  Muffled cries reach my ears and I pull away from Father. The cart has overturned, but the driver is nowhere in sight. Before I can say a word, Father hurries to the cart, muttering under his breath. My legs still tremble, but I stumble after him. That poor man must be trapped beneath the cart. He needs our help.

  Father reaches it before I do and struggles to lift it. I grab the edge of the wooden frame and together we push it back onto its wheels. It does not seem too heavy to me, but Father heaves with the exertion.

  The man underneath gasps with relief as the sun pours over him again.

  “Thank you, thank you,” he says as Father helps him to his feet.

  “Your horses have run toward the mountains. I imagine you will need a few more men to round them up.”

  “Yes, of course.” The man appears rather dazed. He thanks Father again, then limps back toward the city gates, cradling one arm close.

  Pride swells in my chest. Father saved that man, just like I will have to save the rest of the unhappy people in Bryre.

  We retreat back down the road toward our forest, arm in arm.

  “Do you think he will get his horses back?”

  Father laughs. “Eventually, yes.”

  “I did well today?” I ask.

  “Oh yes. You exceeded all my expectations.”

  My steps suddenly feel lighter. Father is happy with me. Can there be any better feeling?

  “You will tell me my purpose tonight?”

  He squeezes my arm and pats my hand. “Yes, my dear. Tonight you will learn what I created you to do.”

  I smile at him so wide I can feel the sun on my teeth.

  I am finally ready.

  That evening, after the stew is eaten and the dishes are scrubbed, Father sits me down by the fire. Pippa lies at his feet, scrutinizing my every move. I suspect the sperrier sleeps with one eye open for fear I will devour her.

  She is no longer in danger from me, though I do enjoy teasing her. She would be too stringy for my taste.

  Every night thus far, Father and I have read fairy tales together by the fire. But tonight I do not retrieve the worn volume from the shelf. Tonight I have other concerns. My mission, my purpose.

  I sit next to the hearth at Father’s feet and curl my legs beneath me. It is difficult to prevent my tail from swishing. Father gazes at me with adoration. He is as eager for me to begin my work as I am.

  “Now, Kymera, do you recall what I told you before about the wizard?”

  “He killed me and Mother. He kills other people’s daughters.”

  Father nods. “He has cursed Bryre with a creeping, evil disease brought on by magic and transmitted like an infection. It strikes only young girls, leaving the adults and boys to be unwitting carriers. The wizard only had to curse one innocent traveler on his way into the city to send the disease spiraling along its path. The people of Bryre have no choice but to quarantine those infected.”

  “What about me?” I ask. “Could I become infected?”

  “No,” Father says, smiling. “I was sly with you. You are not just a young girl. You are bird, snake, and cat, too. The curse will not touch you.”

  I grin. Father thinks of everything. He will keep us one step ahead of this wizard.

  He sighs and leans back in his chair. “Trouble is, the usual nurses fear to enter the quarantine hospital. Only those with no children of their own dare to care for the poor girls as they wither day by day, and only guards without families will protect them from the wizard. Stealing the girls from the hospital and holding them in his prison is child’s play.”

  My skin tingles. “Did the wizard hold me in that prison, too?”

  Father’s face softens. “My dear, I do not know. I only found you after he was through with you.”

  “Do you know where this prison lies?”

  “I do. The prison is hidden in plain sight in the middle of the city, just like you were on the road this afternoon. I have drawn you a map.” He pulls a folded piece of paper from th
e book on the table beside him and hands it to me. “This will lead you to the girls. You will free them. You will be the one to stop the wizard.”

  DAY NINE

  THIS IS MY FIRST TRIP INTO THE CITY. I TUCK MY CLOAK BETWEEN MY wings and fly down the forest path, buoyed up by my purpose. The sun set hours ago and the moon winks down as though it knows and approves of my task.

  This will be a good night. I will not fail Father. I will save the other girls from the prison and Father will give them the antidote to the wizard’s disease. He cannot save them without me. He needs me.

  This is why he gave me fairy tales to read. I must learn about wizards and magic to understand the canny nature of our enemy.

  According to my books, wizards are a wily, unpleasant lot—trapping maidens in towers, bewitching entire villages, spoiling the land so nothing can grow. It does not surprise me in the least that one has found a new way of terrorizing the people of Bryre.

  I will do everything in my power to stop the one who killed me and my mother. Who is killing Bryre’s girls now.

  Father told me how the wizard plagued them for months, then disappeared not long after my death. The evil man only hid so he could devise new plans to torment the city and resurfaced less than a year later. It is up to Father and me to keep them safe.

  The tall trees thin to new growth with sparser foliage and I settle back onto the path. Father’s parting words echo in my ears.

  Do not let anyone see you.

  I will not fail him in that, either. I gather my cloak around me, pulling up the hood to hide my face and tucking my tail close to my back. My cat’s eyes see clearly even without the moonlight. No traveler can sneak up on me.

  The trees are now behind me and rough cobblestones pass beneath my feet. I break into a run, reveling in the night breeze over my face. When the walls of the city come into view, I slow and slip into the trees surrounding them. I know there will be guards, but Father showed me how to put them to sleep. Between my tail and the vials of sleeping powder tucked into my belt, they are no match for me. I purr, content in the knowledge that I am a well-planned creation.