Page 5 of Bianca and the Monsters

“Our family means more than any structure or the land beneath it. I could join the disbanded and…”

“Absolutely not,” Nico says, while Pennie adds, “Our family is not our family without you, you daft twerp.”

Taran squeezes my hand that dwarfs his. “If she’s the one for us, then she will be right forallof us.”

I grumble, “I hope so.”

Pennie rises, muttering about purple-hued morons as he heads for the door. “TV room. Now.”

Together, we stand and follow.

My excitement flares, but I struggle against the hope battling its way into my body like an invading army.

Love.

It’s been so long since the word meant something wonderful, something lovely and sweet, something that makes all the decades of barely surviving worth every hardship.

Love… the thing beyond loneliness and grief.

The gift to be forever treasured.

Chapter5

Bianca

Ivaguely remember singing quite enthusiastically about a cheating lover and then about getting amorous with a neighbor. Thankfully, I was just singing and didn’t actually visit my stodgy, elderly neighbors, who live to complain about my wild-growing shrubs.

I blame the blueberry-flavored vodka for all my caterwauling, which to me was an epic spectacle of musical brilliance. That’smystory and I’m sticking to it.

When I stand too quickly, I sway and grab the back of the sofa for support. But the darn thing seems to know evasive maneuvers because my hand doesn’t gain purchase and I stagger, abruptly landing on my butt on my very soft rug.

“I’m drunk,” I declare, sounding like a disappointed narrator. “Stopping drinking now would be agreatidea… but packing issomuch more enjoyable with alcohol. I’m not sure I ever knew that before, but now I do. I should tell everyone… I should tellJack… andLance‚ maybe evenBlaine. The world needs to know about this.”

My words slur in an enjoyable way as I reach for my phone to share the truth about drunken packing with all the world, starting with every craphead whose number is still in my phone.

I frown at my phone as it opens at the sight of my face. I’m honestly surprised it recognizes me in my current state.

As I’m about to open my contacts and push the wrong buttons, my phone suddenly rings and I drop it in shock, gaping at it like it’s suddenly possessed.

Two words show on the screen.

Two words that make absolutely no sense.

Clumberton Castle.

Clumberton Castleis calling me.

Acastleis calling me.

Fancy that.

“Hello?” I say before I’ve accepted the call and then say again when I realize my error. Then I say it again because I’m on a loop and I can’t stop. “Hello?”

“Hello,” a man answers, with a very particular voice, deep and melodic, filled with mystery.

“Hello,” I say and then grimace. My vocabulary is usually quite extensive, but not so much at the moment. “Hi. Who are you?”

“My name is Nicodemus.”

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