Can you imagine Old Lady Blue down at MoMack’s Towin’ coming face to face with the monsters of Saint Mark’s?
And here’s another weird thing. None of those rings are the same. They are all different.
Tomas thinks this means they belong to different gods. And once the right monster is paired up with the right ring, there’s no telling what will happen. They could get super-magical powers, they could turn into maniacal evil beasts, or they could die, for all we know.
Pell isn’t as sure about that god theory. He insists there were only twenty old gods involved in the chimera breeding program, so it must have some other meaning. Cults, maybe.
There’s that word again.
And even though I understand it better now—a cult is more like a club in the eyes of the ancient gods—it’s still unnerving.
Then there are the doors.
The poem over every door in the sanctuary went like this:
A horn, a hoof, an eye, a bone.
A man, a girl, a place of stone.
A tick of time, a last mistake.
Keep them safe behind the gate.
But now they all say this:
A horn, a hoof, an eye, a bone.
A man, a girl, a place of stone.
They fight, they fall, they rise again.
A brand-new dawn, a new domain.
What’s that about? Sounds a bit ominous if you ask me. Like perhaps there’s some kind of war brewing.
But hey, what do I know? I’ve been a monster for a grand total of two weeks.
“I’m hungry,” Pell says, lazily rolling back over onto his stomach. “Wanna go grab a Pop-Tart with me?” He waggles his eyebrows, like we’re just going to mess around when we get in my cottage kitchen.
And I’m up for that. So I say, “Sounds delicious.”
We get up and he folds our blanket, then takes my hand and leads me along the lake shore. I admire the bright autumn colors of the leaves as we enter the parking lot and then pass through the gate.
I’m still looking up at the trees when Pell suddenly stops on the path. I’m just about to ask him what’s up when I look up the hill towards the cathedral and see a huge, imposing dark monster standing at the top.
“Oh, shit,” I say, just as Pell says, “Tarq!” He drops my hand and the blanket and then he’s practically running up the hill towards his friend.
I follow, but with a lot less enthusiasm.
They are hugging, and slapping each other on the back, and talking excitedly as I approach. “Look!” Pell beams. “Tarq!” Then he points at me. “You remember Pie, right, Tarq?”
Tarq—still looking very much like the urban minotaur—nods his head and smiles. “Oh, I sure do.”
“Hi,” I say, waving my hand a little. There are fifty-nine monsters in this sanctuary—sixty, if you include me—and none of them unsettle me the way this guy does. Not even the ones that have a healthy dose of Cyclops in their pedigree make me want to hide the way Tarq does.
“What’s that?” Pell says, pointing to Tarq’s hand. And that’s when I see the book.
Tarq doesn’t answer Pell. He just smiles at me.
“Tarq?” Pell asks, maybe a little bit nervous. Like he’s starting to get the feeling that something is off here.
I’m not starting to get that feeling, it’s already overwhelming me. Because Tarq isn’t holding just any old book.
It’s the book.
My book.
The Book of Debt.
“Like I told you, Pie,” Tarq finally says, “it all evens out in the wash.” He flips the book open and I don’t need to read the name at the top of the page to know what it says, but I look anyway.
And it says, PIE.