Page 130 of Her Psycho Beasts

“I did,” he says softly. “The first unit we built was more of a safehouse for beasts rescued from sex trafficking and breeding rings.” He points to another spot on the map. “We call it the Hope unit now.”

My heart squeezes.

He’d built a place he wished he’d had for himself. A place that now others like him could use as a place of comfort to get the help they desperately need.

Scythe turns and looks at me as if he wants to say something. My heart leaps into my throat. Then he shakes his head and offers me a hand.

Tentatively, I take it.

His hand is cool and so much bigger than mine. I wrap my fingers around it and we walk down the corridor in silence untilwe come to a set of glass doors. A sign above it declares ‘Seashell Ward’ in cutesy blue bubble letters.

Scythe presses a silver button by the door. A person on the other side greets him by name.

“I’m here for a short visit.”

“Of course, of course, Mr Kharkouros.”

The doors swing open.

We’re greeted by a handmade, colourful banner that is mounted to the wall, stretching out on either side. Illustrations made by many different hands in texts and crayon depict sea life, ocean waves, and every so often there are words written in the marine language.

We enter and turn right down another corridor painted a cheery blue, but this one has bedrooms at large intervals because each one holds a ten-foot-long inset pool. The smell of saltwater fills the air as we walk past these rooms and come to an open area where an Olympic-sized pool fills most of the space. There’s a nurses’ desk on one side and couches, and tables and chairs on the other. A woman in pastel rainbow scrubs hurries to greet us.

“It’s almost bedtime, Mr Kharkorous, but?—

“I’ve finished my book, sir!” comes a male shout from the couches.

A tall, silver-haired man in his thirties, wearing only striped blue pyjama bottoms and a towel around his neck, strides over with a wad of seaweed.

The nurse steps to the side to observe as the marine-shifter stops before us. He beams, showing two rows of pointed teeth. Each of his colourless eyes are focused in opposite directions. It makes me dizzy to look at him.

“I finished my book,” the man repeats, holding out his wad of seaweed.

“Have you now?” Scythe says, accepting the wet slimy thing.

He nods proudly as Scythe leafs through the seaweed like it’s a book. “Have you got a title?”

Spreading his hands through the air in an invisible billboard, he says, “A Study in Madness.”

“I like it.” Scythe hands the seaweed back.

He accepts it graciously before saying, “You brought your regina!”

“Please meet Aurelia. I’m showing her around.”

The animus inclines his head. “My name was not meant to be uttered in this world,” he says earnestly. “But land-dwellers are permitted to call me Hammer.”

A hammerhead shark?

“Pleased to meet you, Hammer.” I smile.

“The pleasure is mine, Lady Boneweaver. Oh yes,” he says when my smile falters a little, “we get the news here!”

A tiny movement rustles the hair hanging by his left shoulder. I stare at the ball of pink fluff that pokes his head out, liquid black eyes staring curiously.

“We’ve been trialling the nimpins with some of the residents,” Scythe says. “I got the idea after I saw how Henry was with you.”

“You have a nimpin?” Hammer asks excitedly, taking his pink fluffball into his hands. “Baked Bean is very helpful, and she can even swim!”

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