Page 41 of Monsters' Manor

Does that include a tall, handsome, irritating demon with a scent like cloves and leather? Because standing here, close enough to feel the presence of him surrounding me, it’s pretty damn hard to decipher what it all means. Me. Renwick. Silas. The choice I have to make and the reasons I have for making it.

Stepping back and dropping his hand, I take another steadying breath.

“So… the Parlor,” I say, reaching for a new topic to pull me back from the ledge I’m standing on. “How long have you been performing this scene?”

Renwick’s eyes sparkle like he can see right through me. “Just two years. Though I’ve been at the Acres for almost five.”

“Really? And what brought you here?”

“Word of mouth. Other monsters who had wonderful things to say about Odelia and the whole Bramwell family. About the aid and support they’ve always given our community.”

I consider that, taking a few steps away from him and studying the intricate details in the room. The dark carpets and the rich wood paneling, the bookshelves stocked with arcane tomes, the chandelier hanging over the center of the space draped with more cobwebs and burning with hypnotic black flame.

“And you’ve stayed this long,” I murmur as I continue my circuit of the room.

“I’m loyal to this place and to Odelia because it’s the only place I’ve ever belonged.”

My gaze cuts sharply to his, and I find him watching me with keen speculation on his face, like he’s waiting for me to say something bratty and argumentative.

“What do you mean by that?” I ask, genuinely curious.

His expression melts into one of approval, edged with relief that I’m finally not going to fight him on something.

“I mean that being here, working here, making a life here, it’s better than the shadowed existence I knew before I came to Edgar’s Acres. The existence so many monsters know before they find their place here.”

There’s a sincerity in his words, a quiet ferocity in his tone that makes me believe him without question.

It also makes me feel like that much more of an ass for how carelessly I’ve treated my time here, how I’ve had one foot out the door since the moment I arrived.

“You belong here too, Rosie. Whether or not you believe it.”

The words, the name, all of it brings that tightening in my chest right back. I blink around the stinging in my eyes and nod at him.

“So, what do you say we do some more training?”

13

“Again.”

That damned word.

Again, again, again.

Renwick’s voice has been hounding me for a week now. Every single day before my shifts in the ticket booth, I’ve been working with him. He’s just as much of a hardass with me as he was the first time we trained together, and even though I want to be mad at him about it—scratch that, even though Iammad at him about it—I have to admit he’s getting results.

I’ve only engulfed the demon in flames two more times, and each day I have more control over my fire.

I’m not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but knowing I’m not going to accidentally incinerate my training partner has made it a lot easier to let myself go and lean into my power.

“There it is,” Renwick murmurs as he stands just behind me, hands lightly cupping my elbows. “You’ve got it?”

I give him a decisive nod and he steps away. I try not to miss the heat of him at my back and concentrate on keeping my flames under control.

“Just like last time,” Renwick coaches, keeping his voice low. “Extinguish the left, then swap with your other hand.”

He’s been training me to focus my flames, hone them, bend them to my will. Most of the time they still feel like they have a mind of their own, but each day it’s easier to get a grasp on the shape and the power of them.

I follow his command, winking out one flame, then the other, bringing them back in quick succession.

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