Slaying Monsters for the Feeble - Annette Marie Page 0,63

a towel over his head, swung a second over his shoulders, then reached up and scrubbed his hair, careful not to catch the towel on his small horns.

“If you want to lie down on my bed,” I said before he could complain, “you need to be dry first.”

He grumbled something under his breath, then plucked at the straps over his shoulder. The buckles came undone and he pulled his chest armor off. It hit the floor with a thunk, just missing my toes.

I pulled the towel off his head, his hair mussed in every direction. Shedding the towel on his shoulders, he resumed stripping off his armor. Blushing all over again, I retreated to the laundry closet and pulled my spare blanket, reserved for the coldest winter nights, out of the dryer. A faint burnt smell clung to the overheated fabric. By the time I returned, Zylas was stretched across my mattress on his stomach, head pillowed on his arms and reasonably dry. Also, again, naked from the waist up.

Could he keep his clothes on for more than a few hours? Geez.

I flipped the warm blanket over him. “Are you going to heal yourself?”

“Later,” he mumbled. “It is difficult vīsh and I am … what is the word for when the ground is moving but not moving?”

My eyebrows scrunched together. “Do you mean dizzy?”

“Var. I am too much dizzy.”

I twisted my hands together helplessly. “Those vampires really had a thing for your blood, didn’t they?”

“Na, of course.” He peered at me with one eye. “Hh’ainun blood tastes terrible.”

I giggled despite the fatigue weighing down my limbs. My back ached so badly I couldn’t fully straighten my spine. I gazed at the demon in my bed, then sighed and climbed onto the mattress beside him, on top of the blanket while he was under it. He watched me, head resting on his folded arms.

Plumping a pillow, I propped it against the wall—I didn’t have a headboard—and leaned into it, legs stretched out. The ache in my spine lessened slightly.

My gaze turned, seeking the object I’d been pointedly ignoring. The infernus lay on my bedside table, the chain curled neatly around the disc-like pendant. And beside it, crumpled and stained, were my graduation photo and the notebook page I’d found amidst the “garbage” the vampires had discarded.

Something akin to panic boiled through my chest. I sucked in a deep, shaky breath and steeled my heart. Ignoring the tremble in my fingers, I carefully lifted the lined paper off the table.

Dear Robin,

Hey there, little bird. If you’re reading this, it means I can’t say those words to you anymore. And it means, whatever happened, I didn’t get to tell you some important things I needed to share. But I already told you the most important thing. I told you every day:

I love you, baby girl. Your father and I love you so much, and we’re so proud of you.

The other things, they aren’t as easy to say. They aren’t pleasant to hear. There’s so much I should have told you, and even as I write this letter, I know I should be saying all this right now, face to face. But how can a mother tell her daughter that her life and her dreams have to change? If I can spare you this burden for even one more day, how can I not?

It’s because of our desire to protect you, Robin, that we’ve hidden so much.

I guess I should start at the beginning. The Athanas Grimoire. I’ve shown you this grimoire, but I never told you what it really is. To most of the mythic world, it’s an ancient myth nearly forgotten. But for our family, it’s our past, present, and future. It’s our legacy and our burden—a burden that, if you’re reading this letter, is now yours. And because of my shortsightedness, you’re completely unprepared to shoulder it.

That’s my fault, and my greatest regret. I should have prepared you. I should have nurtured your love of magic and Arcana, not pushed you away from all power. I thought if you could leave magic behind entirely, the grimoire would be even safer in your care than mine.

I was so wrong. Instead of keeping you safe, I’ve left you unarmed.

But Robin, I know how strong you are. How smart and capable. You’re ready for this, little bird. Your inquisitive heart will lead you where you need to go. You’ll find the answers I never could.

I’ve written so much and I still haven’t explained the