Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
“Master, why are there dragons in the barn?” I point my shaky finger inside.
Master ignores me and heads down the hill, leading me to the spot where Bard’s cabin used to be. Now it’s a lovely home. Two stories with white siding and a porch swing. The shutters are bright blue, and there’s a river rock chimney coming from the roof. It’s too picturesque for words.
Master scratches at the front door, so I open it. He marches straight to the room on the right, where there’s a desk piled high with journals.
This is what he wants me to see. I sit and start flipping through the pages.
Entry #4,052:
I am intrigued by the Snail Woman we tested today. It seems the mucus on her skin is much more resistant to the sun than we thought. Samples from the males show zero to no resistance.
“Is this my house? My office? My work?”
Master nods.
“I’ve been studying monsters?”
Master barks.
I have no words. I can’t understand what would possess me to do that. I hate monsters. They terrify me.
The text goes on about how the discovery with the Snail Woman shows promise for future “events.”
Events?
There’s a laptop on the edge of the desk. I open it and find the passcode window.
Shit. Seriously? I type in “Monsterland,” and it works.
I start searching for records. Monsters. Norfolk. Invasion.
Two million? “Why are there two million results?”
Master trots away. Apparently, he’s lost interest in this conversation, or whatever I’m looking for is right in front of me.
Tons of articles pop up about creatures, science, and the preparations for a massive solar event.
I search my name and find my bio.
It says my maiden name is Lake Norfolk, but my married name is Lake Keiman. I am a monster-biologist, following in the footsteps of the famed Alwar Keimen, ex-king of the War People, philanthropist, scientist.
“What?” My eyes bulge from my head as I frantically start to search his name.
My eyes gravitate toward an article, and I click. “Oh my god.” I gasp and cover my mouth, my eyes scanning the words at a feverish pace.
Two hundred years ago, Alwar came here and changed our world. He was fifty feet tall and brought with him a sampling of species from his world, a world that was created by a massive solar event in the future. He not only ushered in a new age of science, but enlightenment, too. It sparked a philosophical revolution.
“People stopped seeing themselves as the sum of their past, but as the sum of their future?” I read aloud.
I go on to the next paragraph. “He married Mahra Norfolk, a widow with three children. Though they never had children of their own, she stayed by his side until her death in 1901?”
My eyes tear up. “Alwar married her. He loved her.” It’s too sweet and wonderful for words.
I continue reading. The solar event, which occurs thousands of years in his past, is something we have yet to face, but he believed, by studying the evolution of the creatures that survived and examining the dirt, plants, and atmosphere in his world, humans would be better prepared.
“No. This is bananas.” The article says that each month, a team of scientists travels over a bridge to monitor the “paradise” on the other side.
“There is still work to be done to create stable crops and a better supply of water, but since Alwar’s intervention, the toxic wasteland has turned into an ecosystem of hope and beauty where the creatures are fed and happy.”
So Alwar came back instead of leading his army.
“Lake?” Bard stands in the doorway, his striking blue eyes locked on my face. “I know you hate cooking, but you promised your grandmother you’d help this year instead of me.”
I have so many questions. How many monsters are here? How did this string of events unfold? How did Alwar prevent the invasion? How did he not get murdered when he just showed up one day in my world with a traveling zoo of monsters? But, despite all my questions, I just can’t stop staring at Bard.
He’s alive. We’re married. I’m about to have his baby. And the threats are all gone. Not only that, but Grandma Rain and my parents are still alive.
Master got the message through. Alwar figured it out.
“I mean it, Lake. You work too hard.” Bard stares adoringly and walks over, bending down to kiss me. His sensual lips are soft and warm. Better than I remember.
He pulls back, and I can’t stop staring. I don’t ever want to take my eyes off him—the way his dark hair is pushed back behind his ears, exposing his exquisite cheekbones and strong jaw. The intense blue eyes framed by a curtain of dark lashes and thick beautifully arched brows.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he says with a chuckle. “We don’t have time.”