Page 108 of Her Psycho Beasts

Straightening, I see my sister in her pink and white polka dot pyjamas, sitting on the loveseat of the big room, an e-reader in her hand. She smells like the expensive skincare she uses on her face and the Argan oil in her long, pin-straight, black hair.

Her voice is stern. “You shouldn’t be here, brother.”

My heart squeezes as I open her ancient wooden wardrobe and dress with the clothes I have stashed away.Not wanted here either. “I wanted to see you. And the hatchlings.”

“They’re asleep.”

“I know. I just…” Wanted to see their innocent, peaceful faces as they sleep. Wanted to see something pure and joyful. Innocent.

My sister’s lovely, moon-like face softens. “Oh Xander.” She strides towards me, her arms out as if to embrace me.

But I step out of reach. “He’ll scent me on you.”

She sniffs the air around me, her expression creasing into a severe frown. “You smell like…”

A funeral pyre. “I know.”

“What happened? It’s not one of your?—”

“Don’t say it, not here.”

She sighs.

I lean against the window frame. “Tell me something good. Something normal.”

After shooting me a disappointed look, she speaks of little, normal things. How the kids are. That Emmerson is excellent in maths, that Delilah is painting awful portraits of the entire family. I close my eyes and soak it all in. Letting the normalcyof it all centre my nervous system, calm my mind, settle my irritable dragon down.

In the room next door, the two tiny, tiny heartbeats drum in the slow, steady beat of untroubled sleep. Breath breezes into their tiny lungs, their abdomens digest what was likely a delicious three course dinner. It’s just how it should be. Just how I’ll make sure it’llalwaysbe.

Just when I think I’m finally calm, my sister drops a bomb, carried on a quiet voice.

“I’ve been researching about her.”

My eyes snap open and my voice is sharper than I intend. “Why?”

She gives me a look that sayswatch it, buddy,and I roll my shoulders and hang my head back, stretching out the sore tendons of my neck. I say in a much gentler voice, “Why, Sissy?”

I can hear her smile as she lights an old-fashioned lantern with a finger flame. “Because I was interested. Because everyone is interested in the Boneweaver, and she is your?—”

I’m across the room in a heartbeat, my hand pressed over her mouth, stifling her words. She lets out a low growl and I drop my hand, backing away immediately.

“I’m sorry,” I say, bowing low. “You know I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” she says, placing a hand on my arm. “You know I take an academic interest in such things. And our vault isfullof old texts and scrolls that no one else has access to.”

My ears perk up at that.

Dragons are hoarders of valuable things, and that means not only jewels and gold, but knowledge as well. There are huge, ancient tomes and scrolls locked away in the Drakos underground library.

If there was going to be any information about the weaknesses of Boneweavers, it would be in there. Why didn’t I think of this before?

You know why,a low, guttural voice says in my head.

Fuck off,I retort.

My sister picks up the lantern by the ornate gold handle. “Come on, everyone’s fast asleep.”

I focus my ear towards the rest of the mansion. I’m met with steady breaths and slow heartbeats of sleep. We head out into the marbled corridor. I haven’t been into the wider mansion for years, only coming to visit Sissy’s room or the adjoining hatchling’s nursery.

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