Alex Finch: Monster Hunter

  I walked him to the front door. We went outside, and I shut the door, to keep Mom from ambushing him with dessert. "Can you--" I really hated to ask, but I wanted to know how things turned out. "Will you let me know how Jake is doing?"

  The anger that flared in his eyes shocked me. I took a step back, recoiling when he reached out to me. Pain snuffed the anger.

  "I'm sorry," he said, his voice ragged. "But I don't care. I don't owe him anymore, and I'll make sure he pays for hurting my mom, for--"

  He cut himself off, but I already knew what he didn't say. Jake bit her, and it may be only a matter of time before she--changed.

  "Sam." His head snapped up. I swallowed, met his eyes. I wasn't sure if he knew that I knew. "It's been ten years since you were attacked, and you're still--you." His eyes widened, what little color he had left in his face gone. "Your mom could very well be the same."

  "How--" He choked on the word, then closed his eyes. "Jake. When?"

  "Outside your house, the day after the attack."

  "Damn him--" He headed for his SUV.

  "I don't care, Sam." I said the words in a rush, and stopped him in his tracks. "I'm glad Jake told me."

  He shook his head, and let out a curse as he ran to his SUV. Before I could even think to go after him, he gunned the engine and shot backward out of my driveway. I watched him roar away, wishing I'd kept my mouth shut.

  I watched him take the corner too fast, and let out my breath when he made it without rolling. Not sure how we stood after that unfortunate conversation, I headed back to the house. My phone buzzed, telling me I had a text. I took it out of my pocket, saw that it was from Sam.

  My knees buckled as I read it. Fortunately, the porch was right behind me.

  Alex--not supposed to tell you, but going to. Dad tried to kill Jake. I wish he had. Mom stopped him, but got hurt again. May not be in school for a while. I'm sorry. Don't call me.

  I leaned against the porch rail, closed my eyes. How much worse could this mess get?

  My phone rang, and I answered it without looking at the number.

  "Alex." Candace's no nonsense voice had me sitting up. "Jake is here, and almost as banged up as he was this afternoon. He won't say a thing, so it's your turn."

  I swallowed, blurted out the words before I could stop myself. "Sam's dad tried to kill him."

  Candace let out a string of curse words that had me raising my eyebrows in appreciation. I heard her talk to Jake. "Sam's dad did this to you?" Mumbling from Jake I couldn't understand had her cursing again. "So you'll stay here, you big lug." With a sigh, she spoke to me again. "I'll patch him up, again. But I'm asking for payment this time."

  I closed my eyes, pretty sure I already knew. "What payment?"

  "Answers. And sooner rather than later."

  She hung up without saying goodbye.

  Just like I expected, she asked for the one thing I couldn't give her.

  15

  After an interrogation from Mom about Sam's intentions, I managed to escape. Until Dad caught up with me outside my room.

  "I like Sam, sweetheart, but my decision still stands--"

  "Dad--"

  "With a condition." I didn't want to hope, but I couldn't help myself. "You can see Sam--at school." I was both relieved, and seriously disappointed. Dad cradled my face, something he only did when he knew he'd upset me. "I need time--to sort this out. It's not easy for me, either, Alex, but I have to do what's necessary to keep you safe."

  He pulled out the protection card. I couldn't argue with that.

  "I do understand. I'm really tired, Dad."

  "Got it. Conversation over." He kissed the top of my head. "Good night, sweetheart."

  I finally made it to the privacy of my room. Closing the door, I leaned against it with a sigh.

  Whatever Dad finally decided, it didn't matter now. I was pretty sure Sam would never talk to me again.

  On that happy note, I bent over from the waist, stretching my hamstrings--and something sharp poked into my right hip. I straightened, reached into my front pocket. And pulled out the small book Katie gave me, just before Sam interrupted us.

  I decided to take a closer look--it would keep my mind off Sam, and the fact I couldn't see him anymore outside of school. I tossed the book at the pile of pillows against my headboard, then sat on my bed to wrestle off my motorcycle boots. Once I got myself out of them I crawled across the bed, my ankle thanking me for the freedom, and picked up the book. With a tired sigh, I sank into the soft, squishy pillows.

  Taking my time, I examined the book, front and back. The leather cover had water stains, assorted scratches, and no title of any kind. I studied the binding. No title there either.

  I opened it, found a copyright date on the back of what should have been the title page, and a vanity publishing company logo. The book was only twenty years old. My breath stalled in my throat when I turned the page.

  A Guide to the Hyattown Safe Haven

  by Andrew Emmett

  Andrew, as in Drew, as in Sam's father. Swallowing, I turned to the next page, read the single paragraph.

  This is a guide to all that find refuge here. The laws of our safe haven are simple: no violence, and no discrimination. Follow the rules, and you are welcome. Break the rules, and we will ban you. Inside this guide you will find a list of your fellow refugees, with descriptions and an illustration to identify them. There is a notes section at the back, for those who can write, and a map of the haven network. Welcome, and safe journey when you leave.

  "Oh, my God." My hands shook as I scanned the pages. Just like he promised, there was a seriously well-researched list of--monsters, what were called half-humans, and, God, a section that was titled Others.

  The illustrations were simple. And just about the creepiest I'd ever seen. But I found myself studying each one, finding a certain--beauty, I guess I could call it, in some of the creatures. My heart stopped when I found the illustration that looked like Jake.

  Fenris Wolf. I remembered Fenrir, from my mythology class. Not a good start, considering the original was violent, and the son of the trickster, Loki. Yes, mythology class. It was freaking fantastic. And I was glad now for the background.

  Scanning the description, I kept going until I found the section named Side Effects.

  As in "what happened when someone was attacked" side effects.

  There is no effect on another creature, aside from the injury. But recent incidents have shown that when a human is attacked by the Fenris, there is a good chance they will change, become the monster, with no control over when and where. Observations are ongoing, as the only human to survive such an attack is part of a haven outside London, England.

  "Not anymore," I whispered. I wondered if that human was still alive--and decided I'd rather not know.

  I turned the page--and the wide, angry eyes of the monster who stalked me had me throwing the book out of sheer reaction.

  Once I calmed myself, I picked the book up off the floor, and turned on every light in my room before I sat down to read it.

  The Devil. It was simply called the Devil. Exactly what Katie called it.

  Speculation that this creature is related to the Tasmanian Devil may not be far off. It has a fierce loyalty to its mate, and is ferocious when its home is threatened. It is sensitive to light, which makes it difficult to live in most aboveground havens. We are unfortunate enough to have the right environment for it to not only live, but thrive.

  This creature is only welcomed into the haven if a Fenris is in residence, as they seem to keep a truce around each other, if an uneasy one. Their strengths are equal, and their need for a home just as ferocious. In my opinion, the Devil should be in the same category as the Wendigo--permanently banned. But others welcome them once they arrive, and I am in the minority.

  Side Effects: No human has ever survived an attack.

  It had the least amount of information in the guide, next to the Wendigo, which had a big red X hand drawn
over the illustration, and one sentence: Do not accept--it will kill all residents and store those it doesn't eat right away for later.

  I had to set the book down for a few minutes to let that sink in. Wendigos were real.

  All the research I'd done, the connections I made with the same creatures running through the folklore of every culture--I was right.

  Sometimes I really hated being right.

  I added my first of what would probably be many notes in the margin, this one next to the Devil. First attack, and the victim has survived it. I will update if this changes. Jake wasn't completely human, but he definitely survived. So far.

  The next entry left my hand shaking, as I added it next to the Fenris Wolf. Two new victims--one changed immediately, one not at all. The third is recently bitten. I will update with any changes.

  I had to put the book down--again--for a few minutes after that. Okay--more than a few minutes. Writing it down, seeing it on the page--that finally made it all real. More real than I wanted to deal with.

  Once I picked it up again, I spent half the night going through the book. For its small size, it was overflowing with information, and so many creatures my mind couldn't grasp the reality of it. I examined the map, and found we weren't the only safe haven on this part of the coast. And most of them weren't underground. We were just special that way. Lucky us.

  The network spread literally around the world, and each place apparently had its own guide, its own rules, and a list of the creatures not allowed. The banned lists for each haven were included, and the Devil topped most of those lists--except Hyattown, and a couple of places in England.

  Finally, I got up and tucked the book in the bottom drawer of my dresser, under the ragged leotards I couldn't part with. Mom refused to even look in this drawer, so I knew it would be safe. Sitting so long, hunched over the book, left me stiff, all the bruises and scrapes I acquired over the last couple of days aching enough for me to pay attention. My ankle wasn't speaking to me.

  I undressed, pulled on an old, oversize t-shirt of Dad's, and crawled back into bed.

  I had a long list of questions for Sam, and I was going to defy Dad to get some answers--even though I had a feeling Sam wouldn't be around to answer them.

  16

  Like I predicted, Sam didn't come to school.

  And he didn't call me. Not that I expected him to, after the way we left things last night. But I still needed to know if he was all right. So I spent the day, already exhausted, worried about Sam, how his mom was doing, if his dad had gone after Jake again.

  Too many sleepless nights, too many revelations, too much strange. I had never been so tired in my life.

  And it was about to get worse, because study period was next. Which meant an hour with Misty. I didn't know if my brain could take the stimulation without exploding, right there in the library.

  I met her at our regular table, too exhausted to think straight, and braced myself for the interrogation.

  She surprised me. Looking almost as tired as I felt, she sat next to me. "You look like you got about as much sleep as I did," she said.

  "That obvious?"

  "Yeah."

  That was it. Next thing I knew, she had her head bent over her ereader, actually reading. I could tell, because she didn't look happy, which meant she was reading our project book. Part of me wanted to reward her and change books, so she didn't have to slog through it. If I wasn't so abruptly summoned by Mrs. Swiller, I might have actually made the sacrifice.

  "Miss Finch." She stood over me, a pile of books in her arms. "I need to see you in my office. Immediately."

  Swallowing, I stood, and followed her through the library, ignoring the pity glances from the other students. I was too busy trying to figure out what I'd done to earn her attention.

  She closed the door behind me, set the pile of books on a cart next to the door, and gestured to a chair. I sat, aware of every bruise pressing against the hard wood seat. "Mrs. Swiller, if I did anything to upset you, I'm--"

  "What I am about to show you does not leave this office. Ever. If I hear of it, I will know who to send to the principal. Do we have an understanding?" Mystified, and intrigued, I nodded. Mrs. Swiller moved to what I always thought was just an armoire, and swung both doors open.

  If I wasn't sitting down, I would have been on the floor. She had a computer. In her office. And not just any computer; it was the latest model, one I had been salivating over for the last month.

  "What--how . . ." I stared at her. "I thought you hated technology."

  "I despise its use as an excuse to be lazy. As a tool, it is invaluable." I clutched the chair, letting that sink in. "I know you are knowledgeable in this area, Miss Finch. Alex." I blinked at her. She never called anyone by their first name. "I need your assistance. My Bessie--my computer, is receiving some emails, from a source I do not know. I am hesitant to open them, and I am making this request of you, to trace them to their source."

  I wanted to smile. She named her computer. Since I did the same thing, that put us on a more equal footing. I stood, gesturing to the wheeled chair next to the armoire. She nodded, and I slid it in front of what was obviously a custom conversion of the armoire. I know my custom, with a designer for a mom.

  "How many emails?"

  "Three, so far."

  "Okay." I was hoping I didn't have to explain the people who spent their days crawling through the internet, snagging email addresses. "Is it the school email?"

  "Of course. I do not use my computer for personal use on school time."

  I bit my lip to keep from smiling. "I'll open your email first, see what you have."

  She leaned over the back of the chair as I booted up her computer, and clicked on the email tile--forgetting the top email would be displayed on the screen. One of her mystery emails happened to be at the top.

  We both recoiled from the image pasted big and bold in the body of the email. I took in a shaky breath, moved back for a closer look. It was a still, taken from a video. I noticed the live link right under it. The boy looked like he was about eight. And he was bloody, terrified, and in the grip of the punked out, green-eyed monster we met under the public garden.

  "What the hell--"

  "No," Mrs. Swiller whispered. "They can't have returned. We burned them out. They can't stay once fire touches--" She cut herself off.

  I turned the chair around, slowly, watched her back away from the computer, one hand at her throat. "What do you mean, you burned them out?" The light bulb flashed in my mind, blinding and horrifying. "Are you talking about the basement fire?"

  She widened her eyes. "How do you know about--"

  "I grew up here. And I know how to do basic math. Something else happened ten years ago, and the fire covered it up." Oh, yeah, my mind had been a busy little bee, fitting the pieces together. I pointed at the computer screen. "Was it them?"

  Her arm dropped and her back straightened, like she just put on invisible armor. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Miss Finch."

  "I barely got away from that green-eyed terror twice now. So don't stand there and tell me you have no idea." I clapped my hand over my mouth, shocked that I spoke to her like that, and even more shocked that I just spilled the beans.

  I thought I couldn't be more surprised by Mrs. Swiller. I was wrong.

  She moved to me and laid both hands on my shoulders, concern in her eyes. "Did it hurt you?"

  I shook my head. "Just scared me, really scared me." I let out a shaky breath, pushing Jake to the back of my mind. I'd already let my loose lips spew out enough. "I'm going to trace the IP."

  Easing out of her grip, I turned the chair and scooted it back to the computer. I found the IP, grateful there was one, since part of me expected it to be some sort of ghost email, sent from nowhere. I pulled up the command prompt, typed in tracert, then the IP address, and hit enter.

  The server address popped up faster than I expected. I wrote it down on the pad next to her keyboa
rd, brought up the Who Is database and typed it in the search box.

  The results brought up an address. "That can't be right." I read it again, to make sure. The address was for one of the computers here. At the school. "How--"

  "Out of the way, Alex." Mrs. Swiller converged on me, and I jumped out of the chair. She dropped into it, clicked on her libraries, opened up an image. "Have you seen this before?"

  The Algiz rune popped up on her screen. This one had been carved into a wood porch post, with the word safe written in black above it and haven written below it. I closed my eyes as I recognized the sagging wood building behind that post.

  "I've seen it. Live and up close."

  "You've been down there?" She swiveled the chair until she faced me. "Please tell me you did not go underground."

  "Too late."

  "Oh, sweet lord." She stood and grabbed my arms. "We promised we wouldn't return. They promised to stay away. We scorched the rune, to turn away those that didn't know. It was supposed to stay safe as long as we didn't go back underground."

  We stared at each other. "I didn't know," I whispered. "We were looking for someone, and found the plans to Hyattown--"

  "Where?"

  "County records office. My dad is an architect--"

  "I am aware, Alex. We should have included him, told him the truth. Now it is too late."

  My heart skipped at the doom in her voice. "What do you mean, too late?"

  "You opened the gate, Alex." Mrs. Swiller let me go, her gaze moving back to the screen. To the little boy. "You woke the beast."

  ~

  Mrs. Swiller gave me a note that would excuse me for the rest of the day, and shooed me out of her office. "You need to fix this, Alex, before Halloween night."

  God--that was tomorrow night. "Why Halloween?"

  "Ask Sam Emmett. He knows, the poor boy." Shock froze me. When I didn't move, she gently guided me to her door. "I will do what I can. But I won't face them, not again." My head snapped up, and I met her eyes. Old terror flashed in them, made fresh and new by yours truly. "I will see that the plans are destroyed, to prevent another accidental discovery."

  "What about that boy?"

  Despair and regret slumped her shoulders. "I'm afraid we can't help him. If he is even alive now." Opening the door, she pushed me into the hall. "Go. I just hope it isn't too late."