Page 76 of Their Fierce Little Monster

“Nope, I’m not,” Corvin throws the words over his shoulder as he adjusts the body he’s carrying.

“Anyway,” Insy starts up again and keeps going on about these markets and her crush.

The streets we pass grow darker, narrower. I find myself constantly glancing over my shoulder, Lian doing the same.

Finally, we pause before an arched metal doorway. Insy pushes open the gates that screech, and we follow her down a cobbled path. A wild garden of dead plants sits on either side as we approach a lofty wooden house that comes right out of my nightmares. Windows boarded up with wooden planks, holes in the wall, and part of the roof sitting in the garden.

“You sure this is the place?” I ask.

“Yep.” She bounces up the three broken steps onto the porch and pushes the door open. Then we walk straight in. “It’s a shared accommodation,” she explains. “And Scratch rents the basement.” Which explains why we’re suddenly descending dingy steps into darkness.

My skin crawls, but Lian stays close behind me, his hand reaching my waist as if to remind me he’s there. I need that reassurance.

At the bottom, we end up in front of a wooden door covered in scratches. Is that why he’s named Scratch?

“Anything we should know about him?” Corvin asks.

Insy glances over his shoulder. “Only that he’s the sexiest man alive.”

Lian snorts a laugh just as Insy knocks on the door. “Scratch, hey, it’s me, Insy. Hope it’s not a bad time?” Then she stares back at me. “And sometimes, his creations don’t always come back quite right. But he’s really trying.”

“Wait, maybe⁠—”

Corvin’s words are stolen as the door swings wide open.

I swallow as we all stand there, filling his doorway, while the man looks ordinary, humanlike. His torso resembles a barrel. He has short red hair and wears thin-framed glasses. Only then do I realize he has yellow cat eyes and claws on his hands.

His attention turns to Insy, and his expression brightens, his lips curling into a smile. “What a magnificent surprise,” he says, leaning over and stroking under his chin with his fingers. “I was wondering if I’d see you lingering outside tonight.”

“Well, of course, but first, I have some friends who need your help with a bit of necromancy.”

He tilts his head to the side, glancing at us and the package over Corvin’s shoulder. Then his gaze falls back to Insy, smiling almost creepily, but it’s obvious they’re both absolutely smitten with each other.

Lian’s in my ear. “I’d kill anyone to have you staring at me the same way.”

I choke on my own breath and break out coughing. He gently pats my back until I nudge him aside. “I’m not sure who’s more obsessed out of all of you here tonight,” I whisper back.

Corvin moves closer. “Definitely Lian.”

Scratch steps back into his basement, ushering us inside as he pushes his glasses higher up his nose. “Welcome to my home.”

Insy enters first, and we follow. It’s a large room with a wooden table in the center and shelves of jars of herbs, liquids, and spices cover the walls. I don’t know what anything really is. Spiderwebs nestle in the corners, and it smells heavily of cooked tomato sauce, which is strange. Two doors lead out of the room, and each is scored and marked up worse than the front one.

Is he using them to sharpen his claws?

“I assume that’s the body. Put it here.” He points to the table, and Corvin drags the girl off his shoulder, laying her down gently. I expected him to dump her there like a sack of potatoes.

Then he stretches his back and cracks his neck before taking in our surroundings. “She was accidentally stabbed, and we need her back,” Corvin adds.

“And she had these weird sparks come out of her when she died,” Lian says.

Insy stands across the table from Scratch, staring at him obsessively, while the man unwraps the girl and starts poking her face and arms, then her neck and legs. He pushes at the blade embedded in her chest and, without warning, wrenches it from her body. It leaves behind a gaping hole.

Lian quickly slips the blade off the table and tucks it into his boot.

“Seems like she’s been reanimated several times already. So it shouldn’t be too difficult to do it once more.” He snaps his head up, staring at us with huge eyes, then scratches behind his ear. “I must warn you that she won’t retain any of her memories.”

“Even better,” Corvin states. “How long will it take?”