Page 59 of Fated to Monsters

“I don’t expect you to do this out of the goodness of your heart,” I tell her. “I will pay whatever the cost. And I’m willing to do it myself if someone would just teach me how.”

Willow lets out a long breath. “This has nothing to do with my heart, Wren. Iwantto help. Probably too much. That's why I'm spread so thin as it is. It's simply a matter of impossibility. There are only so many places I can be at one time, and I'm already overextended on my list of obligations. Unless I can figure out how to clone myself, there isn't enough of me to go around." She pauses and reaches out to grab onto my hand. "I promise you, I'd love to help if I could. Even as much as I loathe that man, I would. But it would require an immense amount of my power to travel there, and I wouldn't be able to fulfill my obligations here."

“What if…” I rack my brain to figure out a solution. “What if I help you? With yourobligations? There has to be something I can do for you.”

“I’m sorry, these are things that only I can do. I can’t…”

“Wait—I have an idea.” Walker cuts Willow off. “Wren is of the Oliver bloodline.”

“And?” Willow says as if she doesn’t understand his train of thought.

Although, it’s not like I do either.

“Your tasks, while some of them are truly only things thatyoucan do. Some are things that require anOliver witch, not necessarilyyou,” Walker explains.

“So what you’re saying is Icanhelp?” Even if it was to simply repay the kindness they have shown me since being in Arthlia, I would do anything.

“If your blood is a close enough match, then yes, it’s possible.” Walker looks to Willow. “It’s worth testing, and honestly, might take some pressure off of you in the meantime.”

“I don’t know. I…” Willow rubs her hands together and cracks her knuckles. “I’ll need to think about it.”

It might not be the answer I was hoping for, but it wasn’t the one I was dreading. And for now, that will have to be enough.

15

Bo

Isit outside by myself on a hard wooden chair not nearly big enough for me to rest comfortably.

Being uncomfortable is something I’ve grown used to, though.

It’s my normal.

The human world is vast, but everything is built for small creatures. Their furniture, their ceilings, their fucking food portions. I have to consume at least five times thesuggestedserving size to feel remotely satiated.

Not that I should complain. Especially when Prania is set up to favor anyone but demons.

No place has ever felt warm or inviting or remotely like home. But Prania is all I know. It’s what I was used to. And despite it massively fucking sucking, I can’t help but yearn to be back there.

Because in Prania, at least I knew where I stood. I was the hunted. But in that, I hunted the hunters, and in a way, I enjoyed the sick little game of cat and mouse. The roles reversing each day made my time there a bit more interesting—especially when compared to sitting here and doing nothing.

The chair creaks when I adjust myself, and I worry for a moment that the whole thing will collapse out from under me.

“What are you doing out here?” Wren asks with her arms tucked tightly across her chest.

“Admiring the view.” I stare out into the dark abyss of the forest beyond Sydney’s house.

“It’s pitch black.”

“I have night vision.”

“What’s that like?”

“I’m guessing where you see black, I see shades of grey.”

"That's cool." Wren kneels beside my chair and puts her hands on the armrest. "Can we talk?"

“About what?” I don’t look at her because if I do, I may lose the ability to restrain myself from taking exactly what I want.

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