I turn back to the boys. They’re glaring daggers at me, but there’s nothing they can do in this crowd, not really. Piers turns away and signals to them. They walk off, leaving me here, lonely amongst the throng of students.
All that work, all those weeks mending the gap between us—and it’s a new gap that wedges up apart further than we were before.
Sawyer was right.
It’s about to start up all over again.
Our creature handling teacher told us before break that we’d be getting a big project this semester, but didn’t give any specifics. I’m nervous as we head down to the Menagerie for our first class since Christmas break. I don’t want to have to pair up with Piers, Owen, or Bennett—or Sawyer, for that matter—as it may make things awkward.
We’ve only been back for a day, and already, I can tell something’s changed between us.
I should never have let that boy into my pants.
“This will be an individual project,” Professor Jaxton tells us as soon as we’re all settled in, and I breathe a sigh of relief. “You will be assigned a creature, and you must take care of it for the semester.”
I perk up. This may be difficult—I’ve already got Cleaver to take care of now—but I’m excited anyway.
This is one of the only hands-on monster experiences we get during our first year at Saint M. I’m lucky that I already got to hunt the al, but it’s been ages, and I’m restless. It might not be hunting, but it’s still monsters.
“I’m handing out your assignments,” the professor continues as he passes out papers. “No two people have the same species of creature. All of these creatures have the potential to be vicious and dangerous, so you need to take this seriously.”
I grab my paper excitedly, my eyes scanning the page anxiously to see what I’ve been assigned. My creature is a kelpie named Aurora, located in chamber W2.
From what I’ve learned about kelpie, they’re not so different that the baekhest that Piers and I studied last semester. That little reminder makes the pit in my stomach grow deeper. So far, the boys are just ignoring me. They haven’t started actively torturing me again yet, but I know it’s just a matter of time.
It’s sad. I’d really started to like them.
More than like them, if my little tryst with Sawyer is any indicator. I’m supposed to be focusing on hunting monsters, not men … but I can’t help the wandering thoughts that wonder what it would be like if one of them—Piers, Owen, or Bennett—was in my bed instead.
The professor has continued talking over my horny inner monologue.
“All creatures must remain here in the Menagerie at all times. We simply cannot abide monsters running loose in the school.” The professor finishes handing things out. “There are basic instructions for the creature’s care on your paper. Go and find your chambers.”
I turn to Erin. “What did you get? I got a kelpie. I’m headed to W2.”
“Mine is an ahool,” she replies. “A giant bat. I’m supposed to be in … C3.”
“Damn,” I sigh. I was hoping to be near Erin for this project, but she heads off to the C-chambers, and I walk down a different hallway to the W-chambers with a few other students. I notice Piers following, but he isn’t following me. He heads into his own chamber two doors down.
The door to W2 leads me into a narrow hallway, which widens inside into an indoor habitat. It’s one of the largest rooms I’ve seen in the menagerie.
The ground is covered in grass, and there’s a small man-made lake. Part of the grass dips down and a glass wall has been installed so I can peer into the murky water on the other side.
Today, however, there’s no need to watch down below. The kelpie is already out of the water, watching me from a rock jutting from the center of the lake. It’s very strange-looking. Its upper body is that of a horse, but its lower body melds into a fish’s tail. Its face is long, almost reptilian, and the hair of its mane looks more like seaweed than it does hair.
“Hey there, Aurora,” I call to her, trying to keep the tone of my voice soothing and friendly. She gazes at me with a blank stare. I pull some bacon out of my pocket that I’d been saving for Cleaver and approach the shore of the lake. Aurora the kelpie watches me suspiciously as I set it on the shore and then retreat.
I sit on the grass until class is over. Aurora watches me until I get up to leave, never once making a move to either attack or befriend me. It may be slow going with her, but I don’t mind. I know what it’s like to not want to trust anyone.
Chapter Nineteen
Every day for weeks, I drop some food at the shore for Aurora and then sit and wait. Each day, she gets a little closer to the shore, watching me from a distance while I wait for her. Until finally, one day, she’s at the shore when I come in, her front hooves on dry ground, her tail still in the water.
I approach cautiously. She’s small, so she’s not fully-grown. Her head only reaches to my chest. I place the food on the ground in front of her and take a step back.
Still watching me, she lowers her head to eat it.
“Good girl,” I say soothingly.