I held the hook out to show the monster. It opened its mouth, flashing serrated teeth. The eyes were spinning so fast they looked like they were in a blender. It was furious.
OPEN THE WINDOW.
I obeyed Xeno immediately. The monster’s tentacles reached for me.
“You’re forgetting your cucumber,” I whispered.
It stopped and glanced back to the bed. Grabbing and cradling it out of my view, the monster flew out the window. I slid the window shut and locked it too. I did not want any more of those things in my room. Ever. Its smell still lingered.
The letters erased on the page and new words formed as I watched.
That was a Kappa. It eats children.
Cold sweat broke out across my forehead. “What?” I said. “It was going to eat me? And you let it come to my bedroom?”
If you follow my directions, you are in little danger.
“Can you define ‘little’?” I snapped. “That thing bit me.”
Kappas are from Japan and have only one love greater than the flesh of children.
“Cucumbers?” I guessed. “But how did you know we had a cucumber? And what if we didn’t?”
Sofia?
“What?” I said.
Close your eyes and listen.
Outside, the world was alive. I heard insects singing and cats meowing to each other through the bushes across the street. Dogs barked over fences, passing messages down the block, and a wood frog kept time with deep, happy bellows. I had spent thousands of nights in this same room, with these same noises. But only just now, tonight, my heart beat loudly, wanting to join in their song.
It was a strange feeling, one that I recognized but couldn’t quite remember, sort of like when you see a friend from summer camp a year or two later. You remember them, but it takes a minute to remember from where exactly.
And then it hit me.
I was part of a bigger, mysterious, and beautiful world. It wasn’t a cold and gray place unless you chose to live in the shadows. Had I only forgotten that, or were these nightmarish creatures teaching me something new?
I inhaled and exhaled in slow, deep breaths. A smile seemed to bubble all the way up from my toes and stretch across my cheeks. I opened my eyes and the blank page swirled with new letters.
You are changing, Sofia. And you are becoming a very good Guardian.
“I learned how to do that a long time ago,” I said, thinking he was talking about the fishhook.
You were kind to the Golem because you realized he was sweet. But you were kind to the Kappa simply because I asked you to be. You have great potential, Sofia. A Guardian must watch over all, the terrible and the good.
“But why?” I asked. “Why protect all of them? Some of them eat people. Why not just protect the ones who are nice? It’s not like we need all of them.”
Throughout history, every culture created its own monsters. Why?
Social studies wasn’t my best subject, but I tried to remember what Xeno had taught me. “Because we wanted to choose what we were afraid of.”
Yes. A common enemy, a common dread, is a strong bond between people. It forces the most unlikely individuals to work together. It gives fear an honorable focus. Monsters made us better people.
“But no one believes in them anymore,” I pointed out.
We have chosen, instead, to fear each other. Perhaps one day, people will remember the wisdom of governing through imagination instead of fear. You must protect the monsters, Sofia, because one day the world will need them. When we grow tired of war and suspicion and hate, we will need them.
Would the world really be a better place if everyone was terrified of monsters? I thought about school. If we had monsters to fight and fear, I might be thankful for the kids who were mean and strong. Bullies would actually be useful.
Maybe monsters had to be bad, I thought, so we could learn to be good to each other.
“Xeno, there’s something else I need to tell you,” I said. “A woman has been following me. I think she knows about the book. I didn’t tell her, I promise.”
I know.
“Who is she?” I asked. “What does she want?”
It is late, and that is not a story to be told at bedtime.
Saturday, March 1
As soon as I heard Mom stirring the next morning, I got up. All night I had worried about the Kappa’s bite to my prosthetic. How would I explain the damage? Mom was going to freak. I got my leg on and pulled on some sweats before making my way to the bathroom across the hall.
Wincing from the glare of the bathroom lights, I moved to sit on the covered toilet seat and bent over to inspect the prosthesis.
It looked pretty good, actually. The imitation-flesh material had sealed back over the teeth marks, and if you didn’t look too closely, the wound wasn’t obvious. Out of curiosity, I pried the bite marks apart to look inside. A glint of surgical steel winked at me. I let the wound snap closed, then ran my finger along it. I’d almost forgotten how strangely beautiful the inner workings of the prosthesis were, like a watch.
All that incredible work inside the leg, I had told Barnes, and no one would ever see it. Why had he worked so hard to give me this leg, I wondered, if no one would ever really know what he had created? His best efforts meant that when people looked at me, nothing caught their eye. How could he be happy with pouring his genius into his work for people who only wanted to hide it? Was that what I really wanted, and what Mom had paid so dearly for? The privilege of being ignored? The prosthesis fit perfectly, but somehow…it was beginning to feel just a tiny bit off.
I wished I could talk to him about it, but I wasn’t due to see him again for weeks, and I couldn’t even think about getting a new prosthesis until I outgrew this one.
I sat back on the toilet seat and sighed. We didn’t study Aristotle in school, and I’d found nothing online about Xeno or his monsters. Last year in social studies, we’d studied Alexander the Great, but only to debate whether it was right to invade and conquer other countries. Alexander had wanted to rule the world and be worshipped as a god. We debated whether he was right to force his beliefs onto everyone else. One thing we all agreed on: when countries didn’t have the same beliefs and values, they usually ended up fighting each other.
Adults went to war for reasons I didn’t understand, but it seemed far-fetched that monsters had anything to do with world peace. Xeno thought they held an important key and were worth saving, but I didn’t know yet what I believed.
After I’d showered and dressed for the day, I went to check our vegetable drawer.
“Whatcha looking for?”
I jumped, not knowing Mom had come into the kitchen behind me. “We’re out of cucumbers.”
“You hate cucumbers,” she said, with the tiniest trace of a frown.
“I know, right?” I tried to sound cheerful. “But I want to eat healthy. Can you buy some?”
“I guess.” She didn’t sound convinced.
“Like, today?” I didn’t want to pressure her, but neither of us deserved to die for lack of produce.
Mom sighed. “Add it to the list. We’ll try to swing by the store later.”
I clenched my jaw to keep from groaning. We really needed cucumbers. Now. But if I acted too desperate, she’d wonder why. I pasted on a smile and grabbed a Toaster Strudel out of the freezer.
Mom snatched it from my hand. She threw it in the trash and handed me a mushy brown banana.
“Eating healthy,” she said.
“Right. Thank you.” I wanted to stab myself in the eye with the banana.
“I need to get caught up on bill paying and laundry,” Mom said. “Do you mind if I take over the kitchen table?”
“No problem,” I replied, sounding like the perfect daughter. In reality, this was a lucky break. “I have a bunch of homework left to do upstairs.” Which was true, even though it wasn’t schoolwork. I needed to study the Bestiary.
“So today will be a workday for both of us
. But tomorrow the weather is supposed to be gorgeous. If you really want to be healthy,” Mom said, “we should take a walk around the park.”
“Sounds great.” With the price of a peck on the cheek, I had just bought myself hours of uninterrupted study time.
Sunday, March 2
On our walk the next day, I wore a scarf to make Mom happy, but the sun had come out and both of us took our winter coats off after a while. We walked slowly, enjoying the tiny signs of life creeping back. The tulips had sprouted thick green stalks, but because of the crazy winter we’d had, they wouldn’t flower for several more weeks. The pear trees were heavy with tight green buds. Everyone in Atlanta was worried about them because one more freeze would destroy the blossoms. The tail end of winter could kill whatever was tender and new.
A woman passed us wearing dark wraparound glasses, her hair tucked under a baseball cap. She had in earbuds and was pushing a baby carriage at a fast pace. Mom let her pass and the woman waved one hand to thank us.
A half hour later, we sat on a bench, watching squirrels dart back and forth across the path. One squirrel even put on a show for us. He chattered angrily at something in the trees before dashing through the bushes. Every few minutes, he would return, his tail full and swishing, barking in protest at whatever was preventing him from climbing that tree. I didn’t worry about monsters. I doubted they were out in broad daylight with so many people around. They seemed to prefer the shadows as much as they needed them. The woman with the stroller passed us again. She must have made three laps around the park by now, compared to our one.
Mom stood and pointed to the restrooms behind us. “I need to hit the ladies’ room. You?”
“Nah,” I said, and tipped my head back to let the sun wash over me. Squinting one eye, I smiled at her. “This was a good idea, coming here today.”
Mom grinned and turned for the restrooms. Above me, cranes circled, honking loudly at each other. Mom stopped and pointed up at them, and I nodded. Cranes flew in circles, blaring like party horns, waiting for other cranes to find the right air current and join the loop before forming a V shape and flying north. Cranes migrated up from the southern beaches through Atlanta at this time of year, heading back to Canada for the spring. They were so loud that people always stopped whatever they were doing and watched them, because it was usually too hard to hear anything else.
As the V took shape and flew, the woman pushing the baby stroller walked toward me. I whipped my head to the right and looked down the path. Hadn’t she just passed us? The birds must have disoriented me.
The woman slowed as she got closer to the bench.
Mom had just gone inside the ladies’ room when the woman pushed her baby stroller to the side and sat next to me. I looked inside the stroller.
It was empty. She took off her glasses, but I already knew who she was. The temperature felt ten degrees colder.
My chest tightened with anxiety. “Why are you doing this?” I asked. My imagination leaped to the worst possible answer. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”
The woman tilted her head back as she laughed. She was perfect, even up close. “What use would I have for a body? I don’t want your body, Sofia.” She leaned in to me and pointed to my chest with one long finger. “I want your heart.”
I recoiled, and she laughed again.
“Not literally.” She reached for my arm next, her fingers extending like a rake, as if to scratch me, but her hand disappeared through my arm, like a ghost. Her mouth pursed in sadness, then she looked at me and her eyes narrowed. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’ve come to help you. Xeno is letting you make a terrible mistake.”
“I don’t believe that.”
We sat in silence for a moment. Then she pointed to the scarf I was wearing. “Have you ever seen anyone knit?”
“Yes.”
“Our worlds, the natural and the supernatural, are like two knitting needles,” she said. “We collide constantly. All that is left behind is the pattern, what we wove together when we met. The supernatural is woven into the pattern of this world. People either refuse to see that reality or they become hopelessly distracted by it.” She pointed one long finger back at my face. “You do not have the luxury of denial or distraction. I need you to focus.”
The invisible wind rustled like music through the trees as birds soared above. There were things in this world that I had to accept on faith, like wind. I would never see it, but I knew it was real and it affected everything. I blinked once and focused on the woman’s eyes, ignoring her finger still pointed at my face. Her irises never moved as she watched me. She was alive in a vague sense of the word but with something essential missing.
“Xeno is filling your head with ideas that will only lead to heartbreak.” Her voice held an icy edge. “Just as his master, Aristotle, did to him. You must understand the difference between reality and delusion before you destroy any hope you have of happiness. You are making a pattern that remains. It cannot be undone.”
I looked at the restroom. “My mom will be back any minute,” I said. “You should go.”
“I am Olympias, the mother of Alexander the Great. I do not take orders from children.”
My eyebrows shot up. I knew that name. She smiled at my reaction, her teeth bright and glistening.
“Thousands of years later and the whole world still knows who he is,” she said. “Unlike Xeno, I might add. My son Alexander showed us what a truly great man can do. He would have ended all war, forever, and given us one government, with one ruler, a true and good god. There was no need for tribes and monsters and separate histories, all those identities that clashed and provoked. With my son as god and king, everyone could have lived in peace.” She shook her head. “But Xeno promoted the lie that what made us different could make us strong. He even wanted monsters kept alive and recruited a child to guard them.”
I glanced at the ladies’ room again. Mom stepped out, cell phone pressed to her ear, and held one finger up to signal she needed a minute or two. She rarely chatted on the phone anymore. Mom needed to reconnect with her friends, but this was spectacularly bad timing.
“The monsters are in hiding,” I said. “Why can’t you just leave them alone?”
“But I do,” she said, sounding offended. “Xeno has told you so little. I rather like monsters, my dear. If I can find the raw materials, I’ll create one, to serve my cause. I made a rather special one just recently.”
She sighed deeply, as if remembering a delicious memory. “Ah, yes, the old magic. So few practice it anymore. Everyone’s minds are so…sterile. Except yours.”
I didn’t know what she meant by that, but I was more confused about something else. “So you don’t want to kill them?”
“Monsters? No. There was an age, long ago, when that should have been done, of course, but time has passed and done the work for me. They are as good as dead now.” She turned and grinned at me. A shiver crept up my spine.
Her eyes were lifeless. They were like glass marbles, hard and shiny.
“Monsters do not trouble me, Sofia. You do.”
“Me?” I asked.
“Sofia, people can have their identity and their beliefs, or they can have peace. No one can have both. Not in this world.” Olympias neatly folded her sunglasses. “Watch the news. The bombings, the wars, the beheadings…all because we believe different things.”
“We call it diversity,” I said.
“I call it madness,” she snapped.
Her tone was shrill, and I winced at the sound of her voice. But what really bothered me was that she was right. No matter what a person believed, it seemed like someone else wanted to kill them for it.
She continued, softening her tone. “And so what if a Guardian, more powerful than all the others, was born in this strange, soulless age? What if her courage woke a sleeping generation? What if she convinced people that their real enemy was fear? That an individual should be celebrated instead of silenced? All my work, a
ll Alexander’s dreams, would be undone. And there would be much suffering.”
Mom laughed at something her friend must have said, and her nose crinkled just like it used to, when we didn’t have so much trouble.
Olympias tapped my prosthetic leg with her glasses. “But what if this girl used her strength to save the world? What if she used her gifts to convince others that only in unity can we survive? Conformity is not defeat. It is wisdom. Sofia, it is salvation.”
Mom had her back turned to me now, obviously relieved that I was chatting with someone as safe as a mom and her new baby.
“Take the first step,” Olympias said. “Let the monsters go. I’m not asking you to kill them or do anything cruel. I’m only asking you to stop caring for them. They are individual, personal creations, and individuality is what we’re fighting. We cannot have separate identities and beliefs, because that always leads to conflict. We must become one so that wars will end. This is a dangerous time to be distracted by our imaginations. But if we let go of our beliefs, all the nations could join together, under one government, with one ruler.”
She looked up at the sun for a moment, and I noticed she did not blink, not once, even though the sun was bright. Then she turned back to me and I watched as a tear slipped down one of her cheeks. It was like seeing a doll cry.
“It has been more than two thousand years since I have beheld my son’s face. I long to return to him, Sofia, but I must finish what he began. Help me. Don’t save the monsters. Save the world.”
Then she leaned in and whispered, “Save yourself.”
I pulled away, desperate for a deep breath of air, as if Olympias carried an infection, a bacteria waiting to thaw and spoil all the oxygen. Closing my eyes, I inhaled, then let my breath out slowly.
The Last Monster Page 11