Alex Finch: Monster Hunter

  "Stay here, Samuel," he said. "I don't need you distracting me." I watched him carry her into the house, the door slamming behind him.

  I turned the car off, the rumble of the engine dying, leaving an awkward silence.

  Sam slumped in the passenger seat, one hand covering his face. I could tell by the way his shoulders shook that he was crying. I didn't want to embarrass him, and as much as I wanted to hold him, comfort him, I just talked, forcing him to focus on me, and not what was going on in the house.

  "Tell me what happened."

  He turned his head away from me, wiped at his face. "I found Jake."

  My heartbeat jumped into my throat. "Did he--hurt you?"

  "No." He pushed at the hair sticking to his face, and leaned his head against the seat. "But he didn't have time to do more than jump me. I never saw him." Sam swallowed, and kept going, his voice choked. "Mom stormed in right after. She shot him with two bolts before he attacked her. He clawed her shoulder, but she kept coming at him--"

  Sam cut himself off, fingers pressed against his eyes. I recognized the trick; I used it myself to keep from crying.

  I talked, to give him a distraction. To give me a distraction. "What happened next?"

  "I grabbed Mom, and Jake backed off. It was so dark in there, I could hardly see anything, except Jake's eyes, the silver on Mom's crossbow. His eyes were green--glowing like I'd never seen before. Then they just--disappeared." The despair in his voice tore at me. I wanted to touch him, to let him know I was here, but part of me knew he didn't want the comfort. Not yet. "I thought he was gone--Mom was bleeding so badly, and I couldn't stop it. I knew I had to get her out of there. We made it as far as the cabin door before Jake caught us."

  "Oh, God." I was so close, I could have helped-- And gotten bloody for my effort. I shrugged off the guilt, saved it for later, and kept pushing at him to get it out. "Tell me."

  For the first time since we got in the car, he looked at me. Red rimmed grey-blue eyes were the only color in his face. Aside from the blood. I couldn't stand to see him sitting there, alone. I took his hand, lacing our fingers together. He let out his breath, tightened his grip on me. It felt--right.

  "Alex--"

  "Tell me, Sam."

  Swallowing, he stared down at our joined hands. "He shoved me to the ground before I could turn around, and I heard him--bite Mom--" His voice choked off. He raised his head, met my eyes, his grief pouring off him. "He bit Mom."

  "She'll be all right. Sam," I was already touching him, so I went for it, and cradled his cheek with my free hand. "She's a strong woman. She'll be all right."

  "But--"

  "You don't know that everyone who's bitten changes."

  His eyes widened, and hope flared through the grief. I knew he thought about himself. That was the idea--without me actually saying it out loud.

  "Thank you." He kissed my cheek. "Come on. I have to convince Dad to wait before he does something crazy."

  I let him pull me across the seat and over the top of the door, still numb from the kiss. Except my cheek. That tingled like I'd been slapped. I would have to save the freaking out for later. Right now we had to convince a monster hunter that his wife hadn't just been turned into one.

  ~

  I waited for Sam in the living room, sitting on the only chair without upholstery. The last thing I wanted to do was stain some family heirloom.

  There were several text messages on my phone. One was from Dad, asking if I'd be home for dinner. The rest were from Misty.

  I clicked on the first one, and let out a sigh.

  I haven't heard from you. What's going on?

  The next message had me rolling my eyes.

  Don't leave me out of this.

  Seriously.

  The next three were different versions of the same threat. I would deal with her later, once I came up with a lie she'd believe.

  I closed my messages, tucked my phone in the front pocket of my jeans. And stood when Sam appeared in the doorway.

  "How's your--"

  "She's okay." He scrubbed his face with both hands, focused on the wall behind me. "Thank you for staying. You can go on and--"

  "Look at me." I don't know who was more startled by my demand. Sam met my eyes, his dark with exhaustion and grief. "I want you to know I'm here for you, and--" I swallowed, wiping my damp hands on my jeans. "If you need my help, call me."

  Before I could take the words back, or do something embarrassing, I whirled and bolted to the front door, my dirt covered motorcycle boots clomping on the slippery marble. Slippery being the operative word. For the second time I lost my usually perfect balance. Strong hands caught my arm, held on until I found my footing.

  "If you meant it, Alex, I need to ask you a favor."

  Letting out my breath, I risked a glance. Sam looked better, more color in his face, his hair damp from washing the blood out. Fear for his mom still lingered in his grey-blue eyes, but it was fading, hope replacing that desperate fear. I prayed it meant he believed she would get better, and not that he was pinning any of that hope on me.

  "What can I do?"

  "Your dad is an architect, which would give him access to county records. I need to see them, without my father knowing about it."

  "Why?"

  "Jake keeps disappearing, but he is never far from town. I think he knows about some old sewer system, or a series of tunnels not on the current plans." Which he would have access to, because of his father. "I have to find out where they are, so I can set a trap." The muscles in his jaw clenched, and for the first time I saw real anger. "I'm going to stop him. Whatever it takes."

  The cold voice, and the flashing eyes had me backing toward the door. I couldn't forget--not ever--that he was attacked as well. He may not have admitted it, but he had the scars, and swinging from hopeless grief to burning anger was not normal.

  "I'll--see what I can do. I have to go."

  Sam beat me to the door, one hand pressed against it, all six feet of him looming over me. "What's wrong, Alex?"

  "Nothing--my dad will be worried, I told him I wouldn't be long, and I really have to get back before he--"

  "Whoa--slow down." He pushed off the door, his body language less threatening, more--Sam. "You can call him, tell him you're on your way. I didn't thank you for helping us, for bringing my mom home." He stared at the floor, the last of the anger disappearing, his shoulders slumped. "I scared you, and I'm sorry for that. It's poor thanks for what you risked." He lifted his head, and the exhaustion I knew must be crashing in on him finally showed. "If you can get me a copy of any old plans, that will be great. It will also be the last thing I ask of you."

  He opened the door, obviously ready for me to go. Now that he freed me from any obligations, letting me walk with a clear conscience, I wanted to stay. We are contrary like that, aren't we?

  "Sam--"

  "Go home, Alex. Be safe."

  He waited for me to reach my car before he shut the door.

  It felt like he was closing it on any chance for us.

  ~

  After what seemed like an endless drive home, I almost made it to the door when my phone rang.

  I foolishly answered it without checking the number.

  "Alex!" Misty's voice slammed into my ear. I jerked the phone away, still hearing her at arm's length. "Where have you been? Why haven't you called?"

  "I'm tired, Misty. Can we talk tomorrow?"

  "No, we can't talk tomorrow. I will die if I have to wait that long! What happened with Sam?"

  "What?" Her question was not what I was expecting, and it threw me. I was ready to deny everything about Sam and his mom, but she wanted to know what happened . . . oh. Second mental head slap of the day. "Nothing, Misty." I let out a sigh. "We both left soon after you. I went home, because I was tired. I am tired. So we are going to finish this conversation tomorrow, if you still have some need to hear about it."

  "Wait--are you telling me he didn't even kiss you, after
you saved his life? Not even a peck on the cheek? What an ungrateful--" I cut her off mid-tirade. I could hear the rest at school tomorrow.

  School. Where I would have to see Sam. And pretend nothing had happened, and nothing would happen. Ever. Just the thought hurt.

  It was so much easier when he didn't know I existed.

  I opened the door, and found Dad on the sofa, waiting for me. He was reading, but I knew he was waiting for me. It eased the weight pushing on me.

  "Hey, sweetheart." Setting the book on the end table, he held out one hand. I took it, crawled on to the sofa next to him, and huddled in his arms, wanting this day to be over, and wishing none of it had ever happened. "Rough evening?"

  "The worst." Sniffling, I pushed hair off my face and lifted my head. Dad's concerned gaze met mine. "Can I ask you a favor?"

  "You can ask." He smiled, leaning back and resting his arms across the sofa back. "Okay--hit me with it."

  "I need to see some old plans of Emmettsville, and I was wondering if I could--um, if you could get me in to the records room. I know they're locked up, and not available to every Joe Anybody who walks in."

  He studied me, long enough it that made me nervous. "Old town plans. For a school project?"

  "Something like that." It was a project, and it definitely had to do with people at school. So not a lie. Just not the whole truth. I really hated this. "I want to find out if there are any old tunnels, or a sewer system."

  "I can tell you there's a sewer system." I blinked, surprised that he offered the information. "I had to work around it when I was designing the library building. I was surprised by how extensive the sewer tunnels are." He flashed a smile. "I even went underground to take a look."

  My heart jumped at that. I knew now he could have been attacked down there--or worse.

  "What did you find?" My voice came out remarkably calm, considering it felt like my heart had lodged in my throat.

  "A well-built sewer system. One we could have used, instead of digging a completely new one. That was one puzzle." He rubbed his forehead, a sure sign that he didn't have the answers he wanted. Mysteries intrigued him, and he loved solving them. Another reason I couldn't breathe a word of what I knew. "I keep meaning to head back down there--"

  "No!" Panic shoved the denial out before I could stop it. Dad raised his eyebrows, waiting for an explanation. "I don't think--the sewer tunnels could cave in, and no one knowing where you are . . ." I shuddered at the thought of him down there, with Jake MIA.

  "Hey," he slid his hand in my hair, cradled the back of my head. It always soothed me, ever since I was a baby, and it worked again, pushing back the panic. "First off, I'd never go down there alone. And second, I do have an idea of how to check for stability, being an architect and all."

  "Ha ha." I closed my eyes for a second, exhaustion smacking me. "Just promise me you won't go exploring. I can't stand the thought of you being down there, of something happening to you."

  Dad smiled. "I'll get your permission before I venture below ground." I didn't feel any better, but at least I'd get a heads up. "As for your request--meet me at my office tomorrow, after school. I'll take you over myself."

  "Well, I was hoping you might," I cleared my throat, trying not to blush. "Give me your access card."

  "Ah." He wiggled his eyebrows. "This favor is for someone else. A certain young Sam Emmett?"

  "Dad!" Now I was blushing, and brain dead on top of it. Not one of my normal comebacks made it through the embarrassment. "Can I please have your card?"

  "The perfect chance to give you an unforgettable teenage memory shot down." Laughter burst out of him at my horrified glance. "I will meet you there, Alex, and sign you in. I'm afraid the rather--fussy--clerk won't let you in without at least my presence."

  Not exactly what I wanted, but I figured I could talk him out of staying once we got there. I had all day tomorrow to come up with some good reasons. "Deal."

  "Tomorrow afternoon it is, then." Leaning forward, he kissed my forehead. "Now go get some sleep. You're still recovering from your bike accident."

  "Okay." I let out my breath, his reminder of my first lie setting off a serious case of the itches on my arm. "Thanks, Dad."

  "Any time. Good night, Alex. Sweet dreams for my sweet girl." He winked at me and pushed off the sofa, heading for the kitchen.

  I trudged upstairs, more wiped with every step. I managed to undress and slip into the nightgown I threw on the bed this morning. And when I tossed the hoodie on the end of the bed, I noticed shiny spots on the black cotton. Closer inspection revealed what I was afraid it might be. Blood.

  Frantic, I searched every inch of skin Dad had been able to see. I didn't remember any transfer from Sam. It must have come from the crossbow . . .

  The crossbow still in my car. Along with any blood he and his mom may have smeared on the passenger seat, or the door--

  "Damn." I pulled off the nightgown and got dressed again. I would have to wait until Dad went to bed, and then I had some clean up to do. I just hoped I'd be able to do it in the dark, and figure out where I was going to hide a giant crossbow.

  9

  Misty refused to leave me alone. And because we were partners on the English project, she had more opportunities to badger me. By the time we hit study period in the library I was ready to strangle her. Or lure her out to my car and hit her over the head with the crossbow I wedged into my tiny trunk.

  I finally dragged her to an empty corner to tell her to shut up. She started talking before I could open my mouth.

  "You have to tell me, Alex." Her high-pitched whisper set my nerves on edge. "I'm part of this. You weren't the only one nearly ripped apart by--"

  "Not. Another. Word."

  Her blue eyes widened. She backed away from me, pressed into the corner. "But--"

  "Not here, Misty." I let out a sigh. There was no way out of this one, and I'd never hear the end of it if she discovered after the fact. "I'll call you tonight, and tell you what I can then. Okay?"

  She did a double air punch with imaginary pom poms. "Hey, I have an idea." She lowered her arms. "I can drive you home, and we'll talk at your house."

  "I have my car here."

  "You drove to school?" Her gaze shot down to my arm. "Are you--"

  "I'm fine. I have to run an errand, and I didn't want to go home first."

  "Will Sam be there?"

  My stomach twisted at the mention of his name. He wasn't in school today, and I was terrified his absence meant his mom hadn't made it.

  "Earth to Alex." I looked up at Misty, startled by the concern on her face. "Hey--what happened? You look like someone died."

  "Nothing. I'm tired, and my arm itches like crazy. Thanks, Misty." I surprised both of us with that.

  "Now I know you're not okay." She studied me, then shook her head. "You need to go home, get some real sleep. You haven't really looked good since--you know what."

  "Thanks, Misty." We both smiled, and for the first time, talking to her didn't feel awkward. "Once my arm decides to stop itching like I have some disease, I should be able to get a decent night's sleep."

  She wrinkled her nose. "Can I just say--eeewwwww." She led the way back to our table, so clearly the private part of the conversation was over. "Why don't I take the notes in case you don't show tomorrow . . . oh." She blinked at the flat stare I gave her, and flipped her blonde braid over one shoulder. "Never mind."

  "I'll make copies for you."

  I gathered up the pile of notes, thanked myself for writing them out on the same size paper, and headed over to the copy machine. That was allowed, since copiers predated the current technology boom. If the school librarian, Mrs. Swiller, could destroy every computer at school, she'd be swinging a sledgehammer in a hot second. Instead, she glared at them, and forbid their use during study periods.

  With a sigh, I straightened my pile and stuck it in the automatic feeder, hitting the start button. My phone buzzed, vibrating against my right hip. I lea
ned against the side of the copier and eased it out, careful not to let the technophobic librarian see me. My heart stilled when I saw Sam's number on the screen.

  Knowing I'd get my phone taken away if I were caught, I moved around the copier, and headed into the reference section right behind it, practically running as soon as I was out of sight. I wedged myself into the far corner and answered.

  "Sam?"

  "She's okay, Alex." I could hear the exhaustion, and the relief in his voice. "My mom is going to be okay."

  "Oh, thank God." I slid down the wall, tucking my knees under my chin. Lowering my voice, I held the phone close. "I'm in study period, so I can't talk long. I'm meeting my dad at the county records office after school. He's using his access card to get me in, so I'll check for any place Jake might be using as a hideout."

  There was a long pause. "Can I tag along?"

  He tried to sound casual, but I knew how important this was. We had to find Jake.

  "That should be okay. My dad likes you, so I don't see a problem."

  "Your dad likes me." The humor in his comment had panic squeezing my throat, so I couldn't interrupt, or keep him from continuing. "That's good to know. So I can join your plan-hunting party?"

  "I--" My voice came out a strangled, unintelligible squeak. A squeak. Heat flamed my face.

  "I'll take that as a yes. Alex," I could hear the smile in his voice. "Thank you for brightening my day."

  He ended the call. I lowered the phone, staring at it, my mind completely blank. I didn't even have anything left to panic. Which I should have been doing, with gusto. Sam Emmett knows how I feel about him! There it was--my mind coming back online and into full panic mode.

  I pushed off the floor, shoving my phone in my pocket out of habit--right before I ran head on into Mrs. Swiller.

  "This is not a playground, Miss Finch." Did I mention she doesn't like me much? Yeah--too many clandestine trips to the computer when I was supposed to be "resting my mind from the ravages of technology." I knew she wanted to grab me and drag me back to my designated seat, but she had been warned--repeatedly--that she was not allowed to manhandle the children. "Return to your seat, before I am forced to report you to your teacher."

  I nodded, afraid of what might come out of my mouth if I dared open it. I stopped long enough to grab my notes and the copies, earning another glare. Along with every book in the school library, Mrs. Swiller had an unnatural attachment to the copier.