Persie Merlin and the Witch Hunters - Bella Forrest Page 0,124
beard. Atlas closed his eyes in contentment, purring softly, despite having three pixies rolling around on his back, trying to get comfy. “I’ve decided that I like him.”
Persie chuckled. “I think he likes you too. And the pixies are in love.”
“When did all of this happen?” I rubbed the back of my neck, where Genie’s fingertips had been a few moments ago. The skin felt tender from rope burn, and I knew I’d be speaking like a husky jazz singer for a few days. “No, actually… what happened?”
Persie filled me in on what had gone down after I’d been taken out of proceedings, detailing how the antidote had only partially worked. I listened in awe and sadness as she told me about Gren, and how the loss had given her the power to summon a Purge. A bittersweet smile turned up her lips as she explained how the witch hunters had fled in terror from Atlas and his fire-breathing capabilities, though she hesitated for a few seconds before admitting that two had been incinerated.
“I don’t think they’re dead, though,” she hastened to add. “I know that sounds crazy, but… I got this feeling that they’d just been sent somewhere else. Another realm, or something. Are fire portals a thing?”
I frowned. “They are, but they have to be conjured by breaking Demon Rubies. It’s the same way the djinn can create portals with specific emeralds.” I looked at Atlas, inspecting him more closely as Genie continued to fuss over him. “If I knew what he was, perhaps I’d be able to research his species and any relation to fire portals.”
Persie stiffened. “You don’t know?”
“Honestly, I have zero clue. I keep thinking something will come to me, but I’ve simply never seen a monster like this before.”
“What if there’s a reason for that?” Persie said quietly, fidgeting.
My frown deepened. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I had the same feeling you’re having—that I’ve never seen anything like Atlas in any of my dreams, or in my research, or anywhere. While I’d never seen the pixies before they appeared, I knew they existed. Usually, I can get subconscious tidbits about a creature through a sort of sixth sense, but I keep coming up empty with him.” She met my curious gaze. “What if he’s… brand new?”
My eyes nearly bugged out of my head. “Pardon?”
“What if he’s the first of his kind? Hear me out: I created him in a moment of desperation, with my emotions running high and my back against the proverbial wall.” She paused, scratching her temple. “And he listens to me and understands what I’m saying in a way that no other monsters have, at least not initially. Gren felt my emotions and responded to what he thought I wanted, but with Atlas… it’s like there’s no language barrier whatsoever.”
I didn’t know whether to be alarmed or leap for joy. It had always been a broadly accepted theory that new monsters could be created, as there had to have been a first of every species at some point in history. However, it was also widely understood that ordinary magicals didn’t have the Chaos capacity to create something entirely new. That would have been the territory of Echidna—the Mother of Monsters—or Chaos itself. My heart thudded with nervous excitement as I looked between Persie and her latest Purge. Persie was the new Mother of Monsters. Given the right circumstances, why wouldn’t she be able to conjure up the first of a new species? The witch hunters had killed Gren and wanted to kidnap the three of us, so, naturally, she’d summoned a Purge with the capability to protect us all. She’d built the perfect monster for the moment we were in.
“Let me do some research first,” I said, already picturing the books I wanted to check. “If I really can’t find anything about a monster like Atlas, then that could very well be what’s happened. But we can talk more about that once we’re sure.”
“Can I ask you something?” she asked.
“Of course.” I managed to haul myself to my feet, resisting the urge to wipe the goop off the back of my trousers. It’s all from the floor residue, I reassured myself.
“Do you know what happens to monsters when they die?” Her voice hitched, tears welling. I felt for her—to Persie, Gren’s death was like losing a beloved pet, or even a child. She had, in a sense, given birth to the beast.
I patted her awkwardly on the back. “I think they return