Page 28 of The Chosen Two

“Wait, what? Why does it look ancient? I am so confused.” I flip through the pages now that I’m less intimidated, and the text is clearly modern.

“When you were born, my dad found out he was your docent. He was twenty-one at the time. He had a lot of time to kill before you would be called up, and he wanted to be ready for you. So, he started to research. He found all of the journals of past docents, but he couldn’t always make out what they had written. The books were so old, and many of the docents were from other countries. So, he made it his goal in life to decipher all the journals and get the information printed in an easier-to-read format. The notes are still chronological… Oh, but you can use the index in the back to find exactly where to look for whatever information you need. See?” He was giddy with excitement, showing me this amazing project his dad had put together for himself. For me, I realize.

“He must have been incredible, George. I’m sorry I never got to meet him.”

“He was, thanks. You did meet him though, and he loved you.”

“What? How?”

George looks at me like I am so naive and then smiles. “Think about it. I’m George Keating. My father was also G. Keating.”

My eyes widen. “Wait, not Dr. Grant?” George nods. “So, wait a minute, your father, my…docent was my…pediatrician?” A million memories flood my mind.

I loved Dr. Grant! He was my favorite grown-up when I was a kid. He never spoke to me like I was just a little kid. He talked to me like I was his peer, his equal. That means a lot to a little girl, particularly if she doesn’t get that kind of encouragement elsewhere in her world. My parents would try to rush through my appointments, anxious to move on to the next thing they needed to do for themselves. But Dr. Grant never let them. He let them pace, or tap their feet impatiently, while giving me the attention he somehow always knew I needed.

I don’t know what I would have done with my life if it hadn’t been for Dr. Grant. I don’t know if I even would have survived childhood. He was quietly encouraging, the same way George is to me now. Well, maybe George isn’t quite as quiet. Now that I know the connection, I can’t believe I didn’t see it! But I didn’t use Dr. Grant’s last name very much, if at all.

George’s sweet smile cracks into genuine mirth. But a less than wholesome thought pops into my head. “That seems like something he should have had to disclose to my parents or something, don’t you think?”

“It’s not like he was using your medical information for nefarious purposes.”

“No, no, of course not. Just to plan out my future training as a guardian.”

His blue eyes warm as they lock on mine. “No, Miranda. You’re not A guardian. You’reTheGuardian.”

Chills. Chills right down my spine. Goosebumps everywhere. I stop breathing for a few seconds.

“Oh…I’m going to need some more coffee.”

We retreat to his professional-grade, gorgeous, amazing, jealousy-inducing kitchen for the coffee, because liquids cannot be allowed in the library. As he fixes the mugs, I watch him work. I love watching a man make coffee…a woman too, really. As long as I get a mugful at the end.

“Okay, so, how did this all come to be? How did The Guardian start? How did I become one? I mean, okay, I was picked at birth, but isn’t there some kind of age or weight limit or something that should preclude me now?”

He shakes his head but doesn’t look at me. “You’re supposed to know this already.”

“Yeah well, I was also supposed to get this news when I was a lot younger, with a lot less kids and a lot more time, so spill it.”

“Touche.” He carefully places my mug in front of me and stares into his own.

“Every culture and civilization has its own folktales, myths, and monsters. Right?”

I take a long sip from my mug before speaking. “Right. They usually get started because someone would rather scare their kids than just talk to them, so they make up a tale to keep their kids on the straight and narrow.”

George bobs his head back and forth in a yes-and-no kind of way. “Technically, that’s accurate.”

“You’re not telling me that these myths are based on real creatures?”

“No, not at all.Technically, the creatures are based on the myths.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“The tales that were most compelling, that were passed down the most, that the people believed in the most—their belief over time made the creatures come to life.”

I stare blankly to the count of five. Then, “Come again?”

“Monsters, demons, fairies, gods… They all came to exist in our world when the people who believed in them willed them to be.”

“Okay, we’ll come back to that later. And…the…Guardian?”

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