Page 76 of My Monster's Keeper
“Of course, it matters,” Wilder growls.
I step around them, only to get pulled to a stop by cold fingers around my wrist.
“It’s over. And I don’t want to talk about it,” I snap and yank my wrist free.
They all look at each other and nod.
“Okay, but we’re here to listen if you want to plot murder.”
I feel stiff and unsure as I get ready this morning. “Come on, let’s get out of here again.”
We get dressed, and I take them to the museum. I used to come here on cold and wet days. It was free and warm. Plus, I liked looking at all the old things.
I talk through the animals, explaining why they live on separate continents and the different environments. I explain about how people use museums, art galleries, and libraries to learn.
I show them the history of my species, and, finally, when we stand beneath the huge, towering skeleton of the T-Rex does Puppy finally stop and go still.
His eyes get huge as he stares up at it.
Stix stands right behind me, so close I can feel his warmth. He leans in close, his lips near my ear.
“You’ve done really well, Becky Dawson.”
I inhale roughly. “Have I?”
“Yes.”
His fingertips graze the inside of my palm, and I instantly flex my fingers, allowing his to slide in between mine until our hands are pressed palm to palm.
I don’t look at him, but he moves to my side and stands shoulder to shoulder with me.
“He was a foster dad. Davidson, I mean. He was a monster, but everyone thought he was wonderful. I moved on, and I’m okay.”
“My sire hated me. I was a weapon to be aimed at his enemies until I got too powerful. He tried several times to kill me.”
“You survived.”
“So did you. Have you thought about giving him to a Grim to eat?”
I choke.
Puppy circles the dinosaur and then goes and presses the button, listening as a recorded voice starts the informative spiel again and lights up a screen with information and images.
“The past is the past. I don’t need to revisit it,” I say with a confidence I don’t feel.
“Okay.”
“I’m good.”
“Okay.”
I turn my head and look up at him. “Truly.”
“I know you, Becky. Look at you, you are amazing.”
Frost winks at me as he walks past and sends an icy wind to swirl around us.
Wilder is intently reading about the environments, but, every few seconds, he looks up and checks in.
