Page 54 of Her Rabid Beasts

To my surprise, there is no dark dragon’s tower, complete with a roaring fireplace and a crusty old wizard tinkering away in the corner.

Instead, we come out to a small, clean, modern apartment. I wander out, straining my ears for sounds of movement—human, beast or otherwise.

But the apartment is silent.

As Eugene and I step further into the living space, I turn around to see that the secret door forms the mantelpiece of a black fireplace. It’s a gothic hearth with an arch of black stone that mirrors the circular shape of the door. Black leather couches surround a blood red carpet that makes for a sophisticated but cosy sitting area. I imagine it would be super comforting to sit here in the evening, with the fire crackling and a good book in hand. Behind the couches is a formal, black-painted wood dining table that can seat six in the high-backed, ornately carved black chairs.

It sends a shiver down my spine.

Six, my anima says.

Six makes us whole.

Shoving that thought aside, my eyes move past to the small kitchenette with its black opalescent marble countertop and shiny steel grey electric appliances.

There are floor-to-ceiling windows that make up the entire left-hand side wall. I pad up to them and push aside the sheer curtains to find the sports ground at the front of the school.

Can this be the residence of the fabled phoenix headmistress my animas have told me about? I only have a memory of red hair and the smell of power from when she’d come to see me on my first day down there.

But this doesn’t seem like the residence of a lady, and there is something distinctly familiar in the way even the kitchen is organised with a meticulous, almost obsessive hand.

I check the sink. Not a dish or glass in sight, nor a droplet of water. The dish drainer holds a single black mug.

And on the wall opposite the windows sits a massive printed canvas. But it’s not artwork, it’s a blown up photograph. I step up to the black white landscape, depicting a mountain canyon taken from a great height. Walking proud, but alone through the towering mountains, like the last of his kind, is a dark male lion.

Sudden emotion pours into my chest. At how lonely it is, the path he walks. The way the camera is angled so we can see the path that he’d walked, but nothing of what lies ahead.

Goosebumps erupt all over my body.

I wonder where he’s been, that proud lion. Where his path led him after the photo was taken.

Shaking myself out of a sudden pensive stupor, I tear my eyes away and consider the rest of the apartment with new eyes.

With excitement bubbling up in my chest, I pad down the maroon rug leading past the kitchen and find a massive bedroom. It’s clean and simple. A king bed lies in the centre—all black sheets and pillows—pristinely made with corners and foldsof military style precision. A wardrobe leads off to my left and I tip-toe inside and flick on the light switch.

The fresh and heady scent of paper and leather hits me before the sight does.

Suits. Suits of black, grey and navy-blue line the entire left-hand side, grouped by colour. White, black and blue shirts line the other side. There’s a rack of perfectly polished shoes and a set of drawers slides smoothly open to reveal neat rows of ties, gold cufflinks and watches.

Giddiness tingles down my spine as I receive sudden, delightful confirmation of my suspicions.

I’m inside Lyle’s apartment. Hisprivatespace.

It should feel invasive to be in here. Intrusive, even. Instead, I feel a smug sense of satisfaction that I’m in his secret dwelling and he doesn’t know it. I now know for sure the school is on my side, because Christine is clearly keeping him occupied with trying to get into the dorm so that I can get in here to snoop.

I’m going to kiss her when I see her next.

“Thank you,” I say out loud, running my fingers along the row of the suits. “This is great. But now…”

There are butterflies in my tummy and a smirk on my face. This is forbidden. This iswonderful.

Snooping seems necessary. It’s one tiny revenge in the much larger-scale revenge I need to exact on Lyle for handing me over to my father so easily, despite knowing about me being his regina.

I practically skip out of the wardrobe, making Henry jostle on my shoulder. It’s then that I notice Eugene hasn’t followed us. Frowning, I retrace my steps back outside the bedroom and find Eugene standing stiff by the fireplace door. It’s almost like he doesn’t want to come in. No doubt some innate instinct telling him that this is the domain of a territorial predator. “Go standguard by Eugene,” I say to Henry. “You two make a sound if someone comes in, I need to concentrate.”

Henry zips off with an affirmative chirp.

Heart pounding, I return to the bedroom. Scanning the space, I note the two matte black side tables. I hurry to the closest set and yank the top drawer open, keen to learn Lyle’s secrets, because so far, his apartment is just as stuck up as him.

---