Page 51 of Enticing Monsters

Serafina.

Buthowthey connect eludes me.

“Is there another species of fae that could possibly do this?” Caleb turns to address his parents and younger brother.

Mrs. Jenkins taps her painted nails against the table, her multiple bracelets jangling in the process. I wonder how many of those bracelets are actually blades in disguise.

Like mother, like daughter.

I know they’re not blood related, but the similarities between the two of them are uncanny. They have the same sharpness in their eyes, like they’re assessing the world and constructing a conclusion.

I remember watching a documentary in science class about nature versus nurture. Serafina may be adopted, but there’s no denying who her parents are. She’s certainly adopted their mannerisms.

The thought makes me smile, though it sends a pang of yearning through me.

Where is Serafina now?

Does she know about what happened to the council and Charise?

Does she think I did it?

Will she be mad at her parents for bringing me in for questioning?

I hope that isn’t the case. I would hate to drive a wedge between Sera and her family. I know how close they are to each other, and I’d never want to get between them.

Hopefully, this will all blow over, the culprit will be captured, I’ll be released, and we can all have a good laugh about this.

As the Jenkinses whisper amongst themselves, my thoughts drift to my mother. Doessheknow what happened to me? Knowing her, she’ll believe that I did it and smile at the thought of getting rid of me.

There’s another sharp pinch in my chest, but this one brings nothing but pain.

Even my own mother thinks I’m a monster.

Self-loathing envelops me like a thick fur cloak.

“Say that you didn’t do it…” Mrs. Jenkins finally says, shifting to face me. “So you believe that someone is trying to frame you, correct? Or do you think that it’s just a coincidence that their method of attack was similar to your own?”

“I have no idea.” I lower my head and focus on the metal cuffs encasing my wrists. They sparkle with a strange silver glow that actually hurts my eyes.

I know from conversations with Devyn that these cuffs are used by the FIB to prohibit fae from using their powers when they’re under arrest. I don’t know how they were created, and honestly, I don’t care. Being without my baku feels like losing a piece of myself. I usually always feel magic tingling just underneath my skin, and with it absent, there’s a gaping hole in my chest.

“But it all stems back to the question—what supernatural is capable of doing this?” Caleb inquires, frowning. “There aren’t many species that can trap an entire council of fae in nightmares.”

“Sirens, perhaps,” Maddox interjects.

Sirens can use their voice to get humans and fae alike to do their bidding. But I’ve never heard of a siren being powerful enough to control more than one person at a time, let alone a group of influential fae.

Mrs. Jenkins must be on the same wavelength as me because she shakes her head. “There hasn’t been a siren that powerful in hundreds of years, since a dozen of them got arrested for sinking ships and killing sailors in the sixteen hundreds.”

“But there also hasn’t been a skinwalker in just as long,” Mr. Jenkins points out.

His wife’s frown deepens.

“Do you think this has to do with Sera?” she asks, rubbing at one of her bracelets.

Nobody gets the chance to answer.

At that moment, the door to the room is thrown open, and a harried-looking woman rushes inside, Devyn a few steps behind her, his expression tense.

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