Page 26 of Becoming Monsterous

Angus steps in front of me, roaring like the bull of a man he is. His muscles ripple and his skin deepens in color to a rich bronze, the monster inside him flaring to life.

Stepping up to my left, Aleron snarls, his dark wings unfurling behind him. Their feathers brush against my arm, dark energy coalescing around me from their presence.

At my right, Morpheus pivots calmly towards the crowd and flicks his wrists. This simple gesture releases two of his most dangerous tattoos: the wolf and the hunter. The wolf crouches on the floor, snarling loudly, while the hunter knocks an arrow to his recurve bow and sets his dark gaze out towards the crowd.

The crowd that's murmuring in outrage and confusion. My ability to automatically translate the speech of monsters, gifted to me by Medusa, bends and breaks at the cacophony of languages. Words that I once understood turn into garbled nonsense.

Sensing the tension, my snakes surge from my head, flicking their tongues out to taste the nervous energy around me. Jean Kincaide grips her staff, looking at me with wariness and suspicion. I clear my throat, searching for some kind of words that might defend me, but it's hard to find me.

What should I say—that we hid her body somewhere, but don't ask us where, we don't want to tell you?

Maybe I should mention that all her powers will be mine when she dies.

I can reassure them that I won't enslave them with her powers of love, but I doubt they'll believe that. They're too suspicious for it to work.

Still, I have to say something. The longer I stand here without defending myself, the worse it'll be.

"I'm not going to—"

"We won't be doing anything of the sort." Dorian Grey's amused voice interrupts the cacophony of arguing monsters. "It's pointless to kill the conduit. She'll only find another one. Our real problem is the summoners—no offense, Kincaide. They're the ones who are trying to bring Aphrodite back to finally finish the war they started centuries ago, and they're the ones we need to worry about."

"He is right."

Madame Renoire, who I hadn't even noticed was here, steps forward and raises her elderly, trembling voice.

The silence at her words is deafening. She commands a great deal of respect here. Threads of purple-tinged scarlet run towards her from all around the room: affection with a tinge of worship. The monsters are loyal to her and respect her.

For good reason. From what I know, Madame Renoire is one of few human-born summoners who has stepped fully into the world of monsters and embraced them.

Sure, there's Lise, who was cursed by a god. But she's never fully embraced her monstrous side. She keeps it separate and refuses to learn how to control it.

Madame Renoire is different. While her stooped back, brown skin, and pale blue eyes are completely human, the single white feathered wing mantled at her back is anything but.

The story I've heard is that she loved a monster so much that she attempted to bring him into the mortal world for good and free him from his summoner controls. Despite her best efforts, he wasn't able to break the curse. His body crumbled in her arms as she tried to send him back to the Shadow Realm to save him.

His wing was all that was left behind, and as a trade, the scales that balance magic gave it to her.

I think it was meant to be seen as a punishment of some sort—either to mark her as monstrous forever, or remind her of what she's lost. Instead, she seems to have embraced the wing the way a survivor embraces their scars.

She straddles both worlds. And this is something she points out as soon as she has the room's attention.

"I may be a summoner as well as one of you," she says, turning to survey all of the houses, even the brutes, "but I've always been seen as a monster first and foremost by my fellow summoners. It doesn't matter that I was one of them first—they look at me and see only something that they wish to subjugate and control."

Jean Kincaide turns her head away at this, her grip uncomfortably tight on her staff. I wonder what conversations she's thinking of that she's overheard among her fellow summoners. There are a few eyes on her, especially from the Greymark House shifters. I wonder if the monsters are reconsidering allowing her into their ranks. She may be a ghost whisperer, but she isn't a ghost.

Renoire steps towards me, and I feel the full weight of her attention. "Ellie Blackburn may not have been born one of us, but that doesn't change who or what she is now. We have a duty to stand up for her and protect her—just like we protect all of our own.

"But that's not the only reason why we shouldn't kill her, or the biggest. Killing her won't change anything."

"Exactly what I'm saying," Dorian says, his voice smooth and melodic. "Killing the conduit only delays the inevitable."

"It may even make things worse," Renoire agrees. "Right now, we know who the conduit is, and we have some control of the situation. If Ellie dies, I have no doubt the summoners will seek to replace her. They will have felt Aphrodite's presence just as we have—and they'll have ideas about what to do with her powers. We should take this opportunity to use what we know against them, before they catch up with us."

Dorian nods, sharply motioning towards me and my triumvirate. "The Madame is correct, as always. Ellie is one of us. We should use that to our advantage, not chop her to bits and pieces."

Well. That's one way to survive, though I can't say I'm thrilled to be referred to as some kind of pawn or source of information.

At least I won't bechopped up.Not that I think it would be as easy as they all seem to think. I may be a human-born newbie to the world of monsters and gods, but I'm willing to bet I could put up a fight.

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