American Monsters

by Derek Landy

“Abigail didn’t know we’d find the old lady,” Milo said. “She had a problem that she wanted fixed – a killer clown in a neighbourhood she wanted kept safe – and so she sent us. She sent us because she knew we could handle it … and we’re not her people.”

  Amber frowned. “She wanted it kept secret.”

  “I don’t know who Abigail is,” Sarah said.

  “She’s a scary little girl who’d give you nightmares,” Amber told her.”

  “She’s a kid?”

  “Sort of, yes.”

  “Like, an adult with the mind of a kid?”

  “A kid with the mind of an adult, actually.”

  “You mean, she doesn’t get older? How does she manage that?”

  “This is how,” Milo said suddenly.

  They looked at him. “What?” said Amber.

  “This is how she stays young,” he said. “Think about it. This lady has presumably been in that wall for decades, doing nothing but getting older. And Abigail? She’s back in Salt Lake City, staying the same age.”

  “I don’t get it,” said Sarah.

  “They’re linked,” Milo said. “Look at the necklace. What do you bet Abigail has the other half? Sleeping Beauty does the ageing for both of them. Who knows how old she was when she fell asleep? Maybe she was Abigail’s age. If there’s a psychic link between them, it could be strong enough to draw in someone like Buddy. He’s got no real thought processes of his own – he just kills in order to kill. He doesn’t think. He probably doesn’t even know why he’s sticking around. Sleeping Beauty here is an anchor, keeping him in town, stopping him from leaving.”

  “What’ll happen when he gets her?” Amber asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  “If he harms her, if he kills her … what’ll happen to Abigail?”

  “Nothing good, I imagine.”

  “We need those chains,” Amber said. “Maybe leaving this for Buddy is a bad move.”

  “What about me?” Sarah asked. “What’s going to help me?”

  Something moved on the other side of the front door.

  “Aw hell,” Amber whispered. “He’s here.”

  THEY RAN BACK UP the stairs and ducked down at the banister, giving them a good view as Buddy walked through the door without opening it.

  “He’s inside,” Amber whispered to Milo.

  Buddy observed the box. He stepped forward slowly, gazing down at the old woman inside.

  “What’s he doing?” Milo whispered.

  “Nothing,” said Amber. “Just looking at her.”

  Buddy tilted his head like a curious dog and reached down, touched the old woman’s face. He jerked his hand back, and Milo’s hand twitched.

  “Jesus,” Milo said.

  Amber glared, her finger rising to her lips.

  But Buddy had heard him, and he looked up, straight at Sarah. He started for the stairs, and Milo straightened.

  “I can see him,” he said. “The static electricity … maybe it’s a psychic thing. But I can see him now. He’s an ugly bastard.”

  Amber grabbed Sarah.

  “We have powers,” she said quickly. “Milo has powers and I have powers.”

  “What?” Sarah said, trying to twist out of her grip. “What are you talking about? Let me go! We have to run!”

  In that moment, Milo shifted.

  Sarah cried out and stumbled back. Amber made sure she didn’t fall, and Milo launched himself at Buddy.

  “See?” Amber said. “Powers.”

  Milo hit Buddy full force in the chest and they crashed through the banister and fell to the ground. Milo was first up, plunging his claws into Buddy’s neck. Buddy took hold of Milo’s arm and swung him off his feet.

  “I’m really sorry about this,” Amber said to Sarah, pulling off her sweatshirt and jeans to reveal the activewear beneath. “Please don’t be scared.”

  She shifted and Sarah yelped again at the sight of her red skin and horns.

  Amber turned away and popped the cork out of the vial in her hand. She downed the blood, felt the glorious rush as every nerve ending sang and her body grew and she became better, bigger and stronger with goddamn antlers.

  She leaped over the banister.

  She landed behind Buddy, grabbed the back of his costume and ran him forward, slamming him into the wall. Then she threw him across the room. He hit the ground and rolled once and got up in the same slow, unhurried way he walked. Amber stalked over, kicked him in the chest, driving him back a few steps.

  Milo left her to it and ran upstairs. Amber didn’t even ask where he was going. Her fist connected with Buddy’s jaw and he went stumbling. She hit him again, and again. She was powerful and in control. She couldn’t understand why she’d been so reluctant to shift lately. Power was good. Strength was good. She laughed as she reached for Buddy.

  But Buddy reached for her first, and Amber couldn’t understand what was going on as he forced her back. He hit her and the world shook. He grabbed her antlers, those stupid antlers, and threw her to the floor and kicked her.

  Milo returned. He had the sledgehammer in his hands. He swung it into Buddy’s back. The clown stumbled over Amber, turned, and Milo hit him again, this time in the face. Buddy dropped to one knee. Milo brought the sledgehammer down, aiming to smash it through the top of Buddy’s head, but the clown caught it in both hands. Milo kicked him right under the chin, and Buddy lost his hold and toppled backwards. Milo slammed the hammer down on to him, cracking it into his head, his shoulder, his knee. It should have pulverised him, should have crippled him, but Buddy the clown just kept getting up, and when Milo stepped in too close Buddy lunged, wrapped him up in a bear hug, pinning his arms to his sides.

  The sledgehammer fell and Buddy squeezed. Milo headbutted him three times in succession, like a pneumatic drill, but it did nothing.

  Buddy fell forward, all his weight crashing down on to Milo. Before Milo could recover, the punches landed, and when Milo stopped struggling, Buddy grabbed the sledgehammer, holding it in one hand like it was a cheap plastic toy as he got to his feet.

  Amber ran in and Buddy heard her. She ducked under the first swing, but didn’t expect the return swing to come quite so quickly. It glanced off her shoulder and sent her spinning, despite the scales that had formed an instant before impact. As she rolled, she caught sight of a figure kicking open the front door.

  Was that …?

  When she came to a stop, the door was open but the figure was gone.

  Buddy came after her. He raised the sledgehammer, went to bring it down, but a pale hand came to rest on the handle, preventing the swing.

  Glen looked at Buddy with dead, dispassionate eyes.

  The clown let go of the hammer and fell upon Glen, driving him back. He hurled him into the wall, and Glen crashed through the supports and the wall gave in to the abuse it had suffered and toppled onto him.

  Buddy didn’t even pause to celebrate his quick victory. He climbed the stairs. Going after Sarah.

  Amber snarled and jumped up, followed Milo up the stairs. She got to the top in time to see Sarah backing into a bedroom. Milo grabbed the clown’s shirt, dragged him away. Buddy turned, took Milo by the throat and lifted him, then tossed him through the glass like he was nothing.

  Amber charged into the clown and he stumbled, almost going through the window himself. But he swung a punch and it was like being hit with a concrete block. Amber’s knees buckled and he hit her again, and again.

  “Hey!” Sarah yelled, and the fists stopped coming down. “Hey, Buddy, come get me! Let’s go, asshole!”

  Buddy left Amber where she was, slumped against the wall. Sarah ran down the stairs and Buddy lumbered after her. Amber toppled over, turned and lay on her back, looking up at the ceiling.

  She could just stay here. The clown was too strong for her. Too strong for her and Milo combined, even. Glen too.

  Sarah didn’t stand a chance, but, when she was dead, Buddy would go away. He’d go for the next
kid on the birthday list, but it’d be a kid Amber had never met. That would make it almost easy to walk away from this unfortunate little town. Groaning, she got up. There were other ways to get the chains they needed. Abigail couldn’t be the only person who knew where to look. There were others. There’d have to be. Amber limped down the stairs, holding her ribs. Better to just chalk this up as a loss and get the hell out of here.

  She got to the bottom of the stairs and crossed the floor, passed the old woman in the crate and went outside. Sarah was standing in the middle of the dark road, yelling at Buddy, staying just out of his reach. He really was a shambling, ambling mess of a monster.

  Amber took a deep breath, and black scales rose to cover her entire body, and she broke into a run. By the time she slammed into Buddy, she was running full speed. She knocked him off his feet and kicked him in the head while he rolled. He got to one knee without missing a beat, but she kicked that knee from under him, and he dropped to all fours. She lashed a foot into his side, a kick that would have splintered the bones of a normal man, but drew not even a moan of pain from the clown. She kicked him again, but he caught her leg and he stood, so she hit him, and slashed him, and hit him again. He hit her and the blow rattled her scales. He let go of her leg and his right hand closed round her face. He lifted her off her feet and slammed her into the ground.

  Lifted and slammed. Lifted and slammed. He didn’t get tired. He didn’t grow weaker. He was relentless, and her scales couldn’t take much more of this. Pretty soon she’d be nothing but a bloody smear on the road.

  In the distance, a great beast roared, and red light lit them up.

  Buddy let her go and straightened up, and Sarah had a hold of her arm and was pulling her off to one side as the Charger, Milo and the Charger, crept closer, their growls getting louder. Buddy looked at the car with that tilted-dog’s head curiosity of his, and Milo put his foot down and the Charger charged.

  It struck Buddy in the legs and bent him over the hood and slammed into the tree on the other side of the road with such force that the Charger’s rear wheels left the ground for a moment, before settling back down with a crash. Steam billowed as the engine cut out. One headlight was smashed. The other kept on shining red.

  Sarah helped Amber to her feet, and the scales faded and Amber reverted. She gasped at a whole new wave of fresh pain, but Sarah held her upright until she could stand on her own.

  Milo kicked the Charger’s door open, and got out. He, too, had reverted. Amber limped over, followed by Sarah. They stood there, looking at Buddy. Even though the lower half of his body must have been mangled beneath all that metal, Buddy looked back at them with a blank face. He wasn’t even trying to free himself.

  Lights were flicking on in the neighbouring houses, but as yet no one had ventured outside to investigate the noise.

  “You okay?” Amber asked Milo.

  “I ran over a clown,” he said. “I’m great.”

  “So what now?” Sarah asked. “How do we kill him?”

  “I don’t know if we can,” Amber told her.

  “Then can we put him somewhere? Can we trap him?”

  “Maybe. What about it, Milo? Think we can fit him in the trunk?”

  Milo narrowed his eyes. “We are not putting a goddamn clown in my car.”

  “Where else are we going to put him? Milo, we really don’t have a choice here, do we? And it doesn’t have to be forever. We can take Sleeping Beauty with us when we go – we can even hand her back to Abigail, let her deal with Buddy. If we want to save Sarah, this is what we’ve got to do.”

  “I would appreciate being saved,” said Sarah.

  “Hear that?” said Amber.

  “Goddammit,” Milo muttered.

  “Thank you,” said Sarah, and hugged him. Amber watched, waiting for her turn. But, when they broke off the hug, Sarah turned her head and screamed.

  Buddy was gone.

  They’d taken their eyes off him and he’d disappeared.

  Milo grabbed Sarah protectively and Amber spun, expecting the clown to lunge at her. But, apart from them, the street was empty.

  “Where is he?” Sarah asked. “Where the hell did he go?”

  Milo took a look under the car, came back up and scanned the area again.

  Amber frowned. “Is he gone? You think he’s had enough?”

  “For tonight, maybe,” Milo said.

  “Okay,” said Amber, “new plan. Sarah, we’re taking Sleeping Beauty to Salt Lake City. You’re coming with us, so we can keep you safe. Once that’s done, Buddy won’t have an anchor anymore to keep him here, so you can come back. Easy as pie, right, Milo?”

  “Right,” he said absently. Then he nodded. “That could work. We’ll put the old lady in the trunk – drive there tonight.”

  “Your car is wrecked,” Sarah said.

  “It’ll get better,” Amber told her.

  “Okay,” Sarah said. “The journal’s upstairs. I have to get it.”

  “Get me my clothes, too, would you?” Amber asked. Sarah nodded, ran back to the house.

  “You’re sure the car won’t eat the little old lady?” Amber asked Milo.

  “She’ll be fine,” he said. “You okay? That was quite a beating we took.”

  “And me with Astaroth’s blood and everything,” Amber said. “I’m bruised and hurt, but I’ll be fine by morning. We’re lucky we had help.”

  Milo grunted, and looked around. “Where is Glen?”

  “In the house,” Amber said.

  Her eyes widened.

  She ran for the house, Milo right behind her. The debris from the toppled wall had been moved. They got to the stairs. Amber’s clothes lay on the landing where she’d dropped them. They ran to the bedroom, to where Glen was feeding from Sarah’s neck.

  “No!” Amber cried, lunging at him, but Milo caught her, yanked her back.

  Buddy stood in the corner of the room, watching Glen feed from Sarah’s limp body. Then, like he’d reluctantly accepted that the better man had won, the clown turned, stepped into the shadows and disappeared.

  Amber broke free of Milo’s grip and kicked Glen off the girl. He retreated, hissing, then a strange look came over his face and he straightened, calm once again.

  Milo dropped to one knee by Sarah’s side, feeling for a pulse.

  “She’s alive,” he said.

  APART FROM ABIGAIL SITTING at a table in the middle of the bar, The Dark Stair was empty.

  “This feels like a really obvious trap,” Amber muttered as she walked over. Milo didn’t respond.

  “There you are!” Abigail said brightly. “I was beginning to think I’d never see you again! Welcome back and congratulations! The good people of Maple Lake can rest easy once again! Take a seat!”

  “We’ll stand, thank you,” Milo said. “It’s good to stretch the legs.”

  Abigail giggled. “Be careful, Milo – I might start to think you don’t trust me.”

  “Not about trust,” said Milo, “it’s about time. Something we don’t have a lot of.”

  “If we could just pick up the chains,” Amber said, “we’ll be on our way.”

  Abigail looked at her, and nodded. “You did it, then? You beat the nasty clown? How did you manage it?”

  “We had a talk,” said Amber. “Convinced him to leave.”

  “So he’s still out there?”

  “We moved him on,” Milo said. “We’ll catch up to him again and put him down for good, but right now all we want are the chains.”

  Abigail rocked in her chair for a few seconds, like she was deciding on how best to break some bad news. “You see, I didn’t expect you both to survive,” she said. “I was kind of expecting only one of you to limp back here. That would have been ideal. It’d be much easier to only have to kill one of you.”

  Doors opened, and children emerged. A dozen of them. More. With big smiles and small knives.

  “But we’ll kill both of you if we have to,” Abigail said, taking he
r own knife from her pretty purse.

  Amber focused on her as the children closed in. “You were never going to get us the chains, were you?”

  “I never even tried.”

  Milo’s hand went to his hip, and Abigail laughed.

  “Your bullets can’t hurt me, Milo.”

  “Maybe not,” Milo said, taking out his phone, “but if I press SEND then the little old lady we found in that crate is going to have her heart ripped out.”

  The children froze, and Abigail’s smile faded.

  “What?” she said quietly.

  “You remember Glen, don’t you?” Amber asked. “Irish guy? Annoying? He’s with her now.”

  “I remember him,” said Abigail. “He doesn’t have the fortitude for murder.”

  Amber forced herself to remain calm. “You haven’t heard? He’s a vampire now. He doesn’t speak much, but he listens, and he likes to protect me. In a few hours, the sun will go down and he’ll wake, and once he picks up the phone I gave him, he’ll know what to do. She’s you, right? The little old lady? I reckon she’s you. Milo thinks she might just be someone you’re siphoning off, but I think I see a little resemblance around the mouth. Whichever it is, we’re pretty sure that if she dies, you die. Would we be right, Abigail?”

  Abigail glared at them. “Where is she?”

  “Well, we couldn’t leave her in Maple Lake,” said Amber. “As soon as Buddy passed by, she drew him in like she was a magnet. So we took her somewhere else. Somewhere safe. For the moment, anyway. We’ll tell you, if you keep your part of the deal and get us those chains.”

  “I can’t get them,” Abigail said. “They can’t be got. You’d need someone to make them from scratch. It’d take me weeks to find someone who would even know where to start!”

  “We don’t have weeks,” said Amber. “It’s Wednesday now. We have until midnight on Saturday.”

  Abigail shook her head. “Impossible.”

  “Then I’m afraid we can’t tell you.”

  “I’ll find her,” Abigail said. “I’ll be able to find her.”

  “Eventually, maybe,” said Milo. “You just better hope we hide her somewhere safe while you’re looking.” He looked around. “Places like this operate on a code, don’t they? An honour among thieves kind of thing? What are your patrons going to think when they find out that you welched on a deal, Abigail? That you were going to have us killed? They may not like us, but do you think they’re ever going to be able to trust you again?”