Royal Beasts – Monsters of St. Mark’s Read Online J.A. Huss

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: J.A. Huss Advertisement

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So I’m heading up to the apothecary library to get some ideas about this.

But the tension is distracting me.

There are monsters and nymphs everywhere. The party is over. It’s not even happening down by the lake. And this was not my doing. Still, I can feel the blame.

I growl at a monster staring me down as I pass. “What? You have something to say to me?” I don’t mean to use my new powerful voice, it just comes out. And things all around me begin to crumble.

The monster turns his head, unwilling to start a fight.

I take deep breaths because the anger inside me is so quick these days. I think the voice is tied to anger. Maybe I should look for a book on that too?

I come out onto the pea-pebble pathway that leads to the cathedral and immediately my eyes are drawn to the black tomb with the gold dome. Then they travel down to the black stone statue. A monster with gold horns.

I was in there. I heard Grant in there. But I heard Pie, too. Only it wasn’t Pie.

What is going on with that thing? And the statue is creepy. It reminds me of many monsters, but mostly, it reminds me of Tarq.

Of course, I know it’s not Tarq. Because Tarq’s tomb is quite a ways away—not even on the same side of the pathway that cuts the sanctuary into halves.

But there is no way to deny that the tall, black statue with the gold horns and hooves shares a resemblance with my oldest friend.

Just thinking this thought sends a shiver of foreboding crawling up my spine.

But I don’t have time for that tomb, or the monster who may or may not be inside it. So I shake it off and just walk past the tomb and into the cathedral.

There are no monsters in here. Not even a nymph. And, even though I don’t want to admit it, I’m relieved. I don’t want to have confrontations with them. I don’t want to be their master, either. I just want them to leave me alone. I just want them to leave, actually.

I liked it when it was just me, and Pie, and Tomas. And fine, he wants a dragon-wife, the Madeline girl can stay too. I would be OK with that. But a hundred other people crowding us with their wants, and needs, and annoying parties?

Maybe I’m getting old? Am I acting like an old person? Why is ‘sensible’ synonymous with ‘old?’

When I get to the top of the stairs there is no one in the new grand dining room. Just a bunch of empty tables. Well, they can’t complain about that anymore, can they? I got them their stupid hay.

Vegetarians, my ass. Cookie just uses that hay to make his magical dishes.

Gross. Now I’m wondering how much of his magic I’ve eaten.

I’m never eating that food again. Pie and I will have to find a new grocery store. Even if the one in Granite Springs still has food in it, it can’t be good food. Surely it’s spoiled by now. There must be another town within the fifty-mile freedom limit that we can shop at for real food.

And now that I’m thinking about Granite Springs, I remember the woman. Jacqueline. And those kids.

I sigh, suddenly feeling a little overwhelmed with all the changes.

Even the apothecary is empty. And usually there is a whole team of fastidious monsters in here cataloguing things and filling up jars with the herbs and shit they harvest from the greenhouse.

But I’m glad they’re somewhere else today. I’m not in the mood for anyone but Pie.

I grab a ladder, slide it over to the section of the library shelves where I found the book on bags, and then climb up. I have a feeling that the books up here are very old. And maybe old people are sensible and boring, but they are also wise.

Once up on the shaky scaffolding of the third level, I scan the spines. I’m just reaching for a book called Breathing Life into Metal when I see a name I recognize and pull that book out instead.

Pressia. She was the market nymph who wrote the book on bags.

I take it down to the ground floor, place it on the stone alchemy bench, and open it up. But then I get distracted by another open book that seems to have the same illustrations as the one I’m looking at.

I grab the other book, slide it over to me, and look at the cover. Soaps, Balms, and Tonics for the Magical Nymph. Again by this Pressia woman.

Hmm. I think Pie was using this book. And is that weird?

I look up at the library all around me. There are thousands of books in this apothecary. What are the chances that Pie and I would both find a book by the same author?

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