Page 96 of Bianca and the Monsters

Never in my life have I apprehended the meaning of that word. Attraction doesn’t exist for my kind until and unless a mate is found. The fact that I’m suddenly thinking impure thoughts definitely heralds a change in my situation.

Grief still clings to me though, because I will never be the monster she met—this time in purgatory has altered me forever.

But what I know, a knowledge that can’t be taken, is that she will find a way through what comes next and be with me as I discover who I am now.

“Nico, it’s time… come home to me.”

“I’m coming home, my love.”

Her voice is my beacon. Her love is my guiding star. Her sweetness is the embrace I’ve longed for all my life.

When I fall through the portal into her arms, I hear her gasp at the monster I am now, but her soothing words ease the shock of both my departure and my arrival. My body is a mess of scars and open wounds, the pain inflicting its will on every inch of me. I can’t still my quaking, completely vulnerable and never safer.

“We’ve got you, Nico,” my Bianca says with force. “You’re going to be okay.”

“As long as you love me, I’ll be fine.”

She kisses my cheek and I don’t flinch from the searing agony of her touch. She must never know.

“Welcome back, brother,” Archie says. “Drink this. You’ll sleep until we’re home, and then Pennie’s pool will cure all of this.”

I doubt that, but I drink for them and release the weapons that have been my security all these years. I have no need of them now. My war to reach the life that’s mine is over, and I won it. I’m finally here with those I trust with more than my life, my heart, and my soul—I trust them with the truth of me on the best and worst of days. I have no need of secrets or shields. Truly, I am home and I never mean to leave.

Chapter62

Bianca

I’m totally flashing back with longing to the silly in-carriage entertainment during our ride to meet the queen. The ride home is significantly more awkward. Nico is thankfully sedated, covered with only a light sheet. His body… he’s basically one giant wound made of thousands of individual cuts. Only a few tufts of his fur remain, and his scent is entirely muted. But he lives and loves, and that’s all that matters. Everything else will heal, and if he’s never my beautifully furry monster again, so be it.

I sit beside him, my hand on his bare head, needing his touch and knowing he doesn’t mind.

Seated opposite me are my silent-as-the-graveparents. They sit as far from each other as possible, while still sharing the same spacious couch. Both of them glare at me like it’s my job to play the supportive, insightful talk show host for this family reunion. But I’m just a woman in a carriage asking her folks to work out their own stuff without dragging me into it. Mostly, I want to drown out all the drama by humming showtunes and napping until we get home.

When my snarkiness mutates into burning envy of Bastien’s clever avoidance of this forced familyqualitytime, I feel his giddy smugness and also sympathy. Because, sure, it’s much easier to be sympathetic when you’re riding a steed with Archie, enjoying the breeze and not grappling with conflicted feelings about this bizarre turn of events.

I never had a mother. I never felt the loss of a mother. But now, I have a mother, with horns, who is the reason for Nico’s injuries, Pennie’s current state, Bastien’s near death, and my own almost untimely end.Conflictedseems like an understatement.

If it were just about my mother, I would declare a vow of silence and let this unbearable awkwardness fester until it dies a natural death. But my dad—my beloved, amazing, wonderful, commander of the uprising—is imploring me to find a way through this for all of us. The man unflinchingly taught me thebirds and the bees, explained every potentially embarrassing thing, even contacted counselors to make sure he did everything so that I could grow into a confident woman without a mother. Darn it… there’s just no way out of this.

Before I enter the fray, I rest my hand over my heart, where Pennie currently resides right between my breasts—I thought he’d be happy there. As soon as I left the pool, all the liquid was instantly reclaimed by the sparkly gems. Finding Pennie was no challenge. Where the other twenty gems included ovals, rectangles, a particularly fancy blue star, and even a massive pear-shaped emerald, only one was in the shape of a heart and the same sexy shade of teal as Pennie’s cravat on the day I met him.

I send my love to Pennie and feel his amusement in response. He’s definitely an intrigued audience for this dysfunctional family meeting. That he’s so aware of his surroundings and able to communicate through an infinite playlist eases the blow of losing his physical presence. But I’m not letting him go either, so there’s work to be done and then I’ll have all four of my monsters back.

For now though, it’s time to heal my family of origin.

“I’ll start,” I finally say, roughly four hours into our uncomfortable trek.

My parents gawk at me like they’re both lost at sea, awaiting a rescue, and I’m it.

“Where to start…?” I shrug. To mymom, I ask, “Will you tell us what happened? When and how you were taken? I honestly don’t know anything about you. Dad never said a word.”

Flustered, Dad blurts, “I didn’t want her to spend her life searching for you, like I did. I wanted to fill the hole you left so full she never knew that anything was missing. I did the best I could, but I didn’t know—I’m so sorry, Jilly, but I didn’t know what happened to you. I feared that maybe…”

She nods, appearing desperate to bridge the distance and hold his hand, but instead, she tightens her intertwined fingers on her lap. “That haunted me every day, that you would think I didn’twantour life, our baby… that I just left.” To me, she says, “It was the day we came home from the hospital with our beautiful baby girl. You didn’t even have a name yet—our ability to compromise about major decisions wasturbulent.”

She glances at my dad, who supports that statement with a gentle brand of exasperation. “I wanted to name youLucyafter my grandmother and your father wanted to name youOctavia… I can’t remember why.”

I glare at my dad. “Octavia?!”

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