Redemption leaned on the front counter and grinned back at Ube. “We’re hunting monsters,” he said confidently.
Ube didn’t even blink. “Sure thing,” he said. “Y’all need supplies?”
“Information,” Redemption said. “We’re trying to figure out how you’d identify monsters if you wanted to go hunting them.”
The librarian nodded thoughtfully. “Which kinds of monsters?”
Redemption glanced at Jam, then back at Ube, uncertainty flickering across his face. “Which kinds?” he echoed.
Ube leaned back and folded his arms. “You gotta know what you hunting when you go hunting for it, boy.” Pet looked over from the other end of the room, where it had been reading the spines of a row of books.
He is correct, Pet said in Jam’s head. He talks like a human who has gone hunting before.
Jam wondered what Ube had done during the revolution, if he had been old enough then to be involved. He was friends with Bitter, and Jam knew he had been in a wheelchair since he was a kid, so it hadn’t been the revolution that put him in it, but that the old world hadn’t cared much about people like him. Redemption was asking what the options for monster types were, and Ube was laughing his deep belly laugh, the one that sounded as if it had started at the bottom of a barrel and wound its way up before bursting into the air. Jam tried to imagine a smaller him, if he had that voice then, that laugh. She didn’t notice when Pet came up to her until she felt the brush of its presence against her arm.
If the monster is in the house of Redemption, it said, then it is probably a family monster. I know that much.
Jam frowned. A family monster? she asked. You mean, like a private monster?
Pet jerked its chin toward Ube. Tell the man who knows things. He will know which guides to give us.
Jam waved her hand to get Ube’s attention, breaking off his conversation with Redemption. Ube leaned forward, his flannel-wrapped elbows on the low counter and his eyes attentive under his thick eyebrows.
“Talk to me, baby girl,” he said.
We’re looking for family monsters, she signed. When she said that, he frowned and looked at Redemption, then back at Jam, an unfamiliar sharpness taking over his face even as he kept his voice the same, calm and unworried.
“Everything all right with y’all?” he asked. “At home, everything cool?”
His concern made Jam’s heart cramp. She wished she could tell him what was going on, and for a moment she considered it. Pet put her mother’s stitched hand on her shoulder and squeezed a slight warning.
Do not involve more people than necessary, it said.
But we’re just kids, Pet. He’s an adult. Maybe he can help.
Or maybe he goes to the house and tells Redemption’s parents, Pet countered. Maybe one of them tells the monster, and it hides even better than it’s hiding now. How will we find it then? Your prey should never know you are coming for it, or only when it is trapped and cannot flee and you see it clear and you have it held. Trust me on this, little girl.
Jam bit down on the inside of her cheek. Why was everything so hard in this hunt? Why couldn’t she just pass it off to someone else, have them take care of it?
I know it’s difficult, Pet said.
No shit, Jam replied, before smiling at Ube.
We’re just doing some research, she signed. We want to learn more about how things were before.
Redemption looked confused. Jam had turned away from him slightly so he wouldn’t see her sign “family” and “monsters,” so he didn’t understand where Ube’s concern was coming from. “What’s going on?” he whispered to Jam, even as Ube relaxed.
“Well,” Ube said, his face reverting to its usual lightness, “if it’s knowledge y’all want, then you came to the right place.”
I’ll tell you in a bit, Jam signed back to Redemption as Ube led them into one of the archive rooms. Pet followed, knocking over a row of books with its horns in a moment of careless solidity when it tried to look around too quickly. Ube stopped and turned, staring at the fallen books for a few beats.
“I wonder if this place is haunted,” he said, almost to himself. “Things be acting up.” He picked up the books and reshelved them, his hands moving through Pet’s body. “But they say that’s how it is anywhere you got a mass of knowledge accumulated, so, hey.” He shrugged. “Who knows.”
Jam nodded in solidarity at the mystery of libraries, then shot Pet a warning glare as soon as Ube turned back around. The creature shrugged and stepped into the room behind them. There was a wall of drawers on the left, each with a small screen displaying information about the drawer’s contents. Ube whistled to himself as he tracked his finger down a row of them, read the flickering screens carefully, then pulled three drawers open, reaching into them to pull out thin bundles of paper. He elbowed the drawers closed and turned around with a stack of pamphlets in his hands.
“Come, come,” he said, and led them to one of the sprawling wooden tables in the middle of the room. Ube fanned the pamphlets out and then turned to Jam and Redemption, putting some sternness in his voice. “Now, I want y’all to know that y’all’s parents may not be too hot about me showing these to you, being as you mad young and whatnot. But all this was material suitable for kids your age back then, feel me? And if you come here looking for information, I’ma give it to you. That’s what I do. Ain’t no grown-up in the whole of Lucille grown enough to tell you you don’t deserve answers to your questions. You understand?”
Jam and Redemption nodded in unison, and Pet cracked its neck behind them.
I like this human, it said to Jam.
“Aight, cool.” Ube reached out with his fist and exchanged daps with both of them. “Leave the pamphlets on the tables when you done,” he said. “And don’t go talking to too many people about this, now, you hear? Most people get real sensitive about monsters.” He waited for their nods of agreement before leaving the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. Pet glimmered back into sight for Redemption, who jumped a little in surprise but tamped it down quickly.
“What was all that about before?” he asked Jam.
Nothing, he just got worried when I said monsters, but it’s cool. Jam spread the pamphlets out some more on the table, and the three of them bent their heads to look down at the printed pages.
Redemption read the subjects out softly, from right to left. “Dating violence, emotional abuse, drug use…”
They’re pretty thin, Jam said, interrupting him. I’m sure we could read through them quickly. She was nervous about if her plan would work, if anything would come from these old pieces of paper. The best way was to just get it done and see what happened.
“Okay, no problem. Should we split them up?” Redemption asked.
Jam hesitated, thinking quickly. There was a chance her plan wouldn’t work if the information she needed Redemption to see, whatever it was, ended up in her pile and not in his. Nah, I think two sets of eyes are better.
Pet grunted and wandered off to a corner of the room, pulling open drawers and looking inside.
“What’s it doing?” Redemption whispered.
Jam shrugged. Just being curious? She pulled half the pamphlets toward her. I’ll start with these and then we switch?
“Sounds good.” Redemption took the other half and settled into one of the chairs.
A silence fell over the room as they read, interrupted only by the gentle rustling of pages turning and the creaking slide of drawers as Pet explored the archive. Jam had started with a pamphlet about parental neglect, and a slow sadness spread through her as she sat flipping through the pages, past the pictures of sad-eyed children and cold grown-ups. She put it down and sighed. Who would treat their kid this way?
Redemption shook his head as he dropped his pamphlet on physical abuse and picked up another. He looked slig
htly sick. “It’s really messed up,” he agreed. “I can’t believe they used to let people get away with this.”
But they tried, didn’t they? They had child protection services and things like that.
“They didn’t try hard enough.” Redemption’s jaw was set and angry. “No one should be allowed to use their hands this way.”
Jam could tell he’d taken that one hard because he was a fighter—someone using that strength and force against a kid was such a violation of how things should be, what hands should do. She reached over and squeezed his arm for a quick moment before they went back to reading, going through a couple more pamphlets each, the late-afternoon light coming through the tall windows.
About fifteen minutes into it, Jam had switched to a booklet about emotional abuse and Redemption was reading one about indicators of child abuse when she heard his breath hiss in a quick intake. She glanced over as he dropped the pamphlet on the wood of the table and stood up, pushing his chair backward.
“Redemption?” Jam put her pamphlet down and got out of her chair slowly, wired with caution. Had the plan worked already—so quickly? She wasn’t sure what he had just realized, what might have clicked in his head, but whatever it was, it didn’t look good. Pet looked over from the other end of the room and crossed the space between them in three quick steps.
Redemption’s face was tight. “I need a minute,” he said, raising a hand to keep them away. “I just need a minute.”
Jam’s stomach dropped. She felt like she had set him up for whatever was happening now. What is it? What did you read?
“It’s nothing. It might be nothing.”
Are you okay?
Redemption didn’t answer, and Pet bent its head toward him, taking a soundless step forward, its voice low and echoed and urgent. Jam could almost smell the sweat of the hunt on it.
“You have seen an unseen,” it said. “You now know a thing that was unknown. What is it?”
Jam glanced at the pamphlet Redemption had put down. All she wanted was to tell him how sorry she was that she hadn’t given him the full warning, that she’d let it blindside him like this. She didn’t want to ask him more questions, dig for a truth she was terrified of, try to pull it out of his tongue, but this was a hunt and she had a job to do. Has someone been hurting you?
Redemption’s eyes flashed at her, blurring with sudden tears. “Not me,” he said.
Jam frowned, confused, but Pet reared its head back, light reflecting off the gold. “My instructions were not wrong,” it said. “The house of Redemption.”
Jam whipped her head around to the creature. Wait, what instructions?
It didn’t even look at her. Focus on the hunt, it said. On your friend.
Redemption had turned away from them, walking toward one of the windows, his face in his hands. Jam gave Pet a suspicious look, then followed her friend, stepping in front of him. You can tell me, she said.
He laughed, a strange and sorrowful sound. “Maybe I’m wrong,” he said. “Maybe I’m making it all up, you know? It could be nothing. Maybe it’s nothing.”
Frustrated, Jam slid into her voice. “Redemption, what are you talking about?”
His shoulders sagged and he looked out of the window, seeing nothing. “It’s not me,” he said again, his voice low, almost crawling against the floor of the room. “I think it’s Moss.”
CHAPTER 9
Redemption wouldn’t talk for a while after that. He insisted he needed a little time alone and sat in a corner of the archive room with his head in his hands. Jam and Pet stood at the opposite end of the room, watching him. She hated seeing him this way, shaken and withdrawn; it all felt like her fault.
Don’t be silly, Pet said. You didn’t put a monster in his house.
I just didn’t want this to happen, she replied, wrapping her arms around her body.
Pet shrugged, gold feathers sliding. Who is Moss? it asked.
His little brother.
Ah yes. He too is in the house.
Jam shook her head, staring at Redemption’s slumped body. I’ve never seen him like this, she said.
Knowledge can do that to a person, Pet replied. I’ve seen it with you humans. The unseen can tear your eyes open when it comes into sight, and sometimes the mind behind that tears as well.
He’s going to be fine, Jam said. She wanted the words to work like a spell, to make the thing true.
We need him to tell us what he knows, Pet answered. Can you make him talk?
Give him a minute, Jam snapped back. She could feel Pet’s hunger drumming against the air, against her skin, inside her head. It wanted to hunt so badly that the shield which hid its menace was slipping, putting an edge to its presence.
We’re so close, it said. Every minute can matter.
Jam glared at it. Either you wait here, or you go and wait somewhere else, she said. It’s not helpful to push him right now.
Pet growled in her head. Fine, it said, go and hold his hand, then. Whatever you humans do.
It stalked away to the shelves. Jam went over to Redemption and sat on the floor next to the chair he was in. She didn’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt his silence. Instead, she climbed into the silence with him, staying there, feeling its soft curves. Time beat past them, and Pet simmered in a corner, but Jam ignored it, focusing on Redemption. His breathing was shaky, but when Jam joined him, it steadied a little, and eventually he sat upright, his hands knotted together against his thighs. Jam got up and pulled another chair over.
Talk to me, she said.
Redemption made a face. “I don’t even know where to start,” he said. “It doesn’t make sense.”
Jam reached for the pamphlet he’d been reading and looked at the children illustrated on the cover. The paper was almost weightless in her hand. Redemption looked down and took it from her, unfolding it so the pages fell open.
“I didn’t think it was anything,” he said, his voice loose and wandering. “He’s getting older. He doesn’t want to be a little kid anymore.”
Pet came closer. What’s he talking about? it asked Jam.
She shushed it impatiently, keeping her eyes on Redemption. He gazed down at the pamphlet, then let it fall, as if his hands had stopped working. It floated to the floor and landed without a sound, lying there as if it hadn’t done anything, all angled in its pleats. The silence wrapped around them again, and Redemption kept staring down, at his hands or the floor or the paper, Jam couldn’t tell. Eventually she reached out and tilted his chin up with her fingers.
Talk to me, she pleaded.
Redemption’s eyes darted away, back and forth, sliding like he was looking for somewhere else to be. “He didn’t want me to help him with his baths anymore,” he said.
Moss?
Redemption nodded and rubbed his face. “He was fine with it before—fine one day, freaked out the next. Full-on tantrum. My dad came in and couldn’t calm him down. We thought he had hurt himself, or the water was too hot or something. Whisper wasn’t home. He wouldn’t calm down until Mom came in, and then he wouldn’t talk about it, not even to her. We thought he was just tired and wanted more attention from her—he’s like that sometimes. We didn’t think it was anything.” Redemption fell silent and twisted his fingers together, pressing and interlocking them over and over. “I didn’t think about the bruises,” he said, and his voice broke on that last word. “He…he’s clumsy. We all know he’s clumsy.” He looked at Jam, his eyes glassing over with tears. “He’s clumsy, right?”
Jam fought the surge of heartbreak in her chest. Yeah, everyone knows he’s clumsy, she said.
“Maybe it’s nothing,” Redemption said. “Maybe he was just going through a phase, and all the bruises really were from skateboarding.”
But you don’t really believe that…
Redempt
ion’s mouth pulled down. “No,” he whispered, “not really.”
Jam put her hand on his knee and squeezed it so he wouldn’t feel so alone.
“I guess I thought something was wrong, deep down,” he continued. “I just didn’t know what. And some of the things in the pamphlet, some of the things Moss has been saying. I know our parents have been worried too.” He shook his head. “None of us knew how to put it together.”
Jam controlled her face as he looked at her. “I just want it to be wrong, Jam,” he said. “I don’t want it to fit this way. It’s just an old piece of paper. It’s probably wrong. It doesn’t know Moss.”
Yeah, we don’t know, she said.
Pet leaned over from behind her, its shadow falling over both of them. But you can find out, it said.
Jam didn’t know what to think. This wasn’t what she had expected. She’d been preparing for Redemption to be the monster’s target, as much as anyone could prepare for something like that, but hearing that it was Moss somehow made it worse. She hadn’t even known it could get worse. Moss was so little, just gaps in his teeth and scabs on his knees and tangled hair and shining eyes. The image of the monster in Jam’s head became even darker, the corners of its malice shadowed and sharp. Were there levels of monsters? Were some worse than others? Was that even the kind of thing you could measure?
Do not measure, Pet said in her head. A monster is a monster. A hunt is a hunt. It is simple that way.
Jam let out a breath, and Pet put its hand on her shoulder.
Trust me, it said, the sound of its voice lapping like gentle waves against her mind. Simple is better. Find the monster. Remove the monster.
It sounded like a chant, the way it was distilled, the way it stripped all the mess of the outside down to the bone of the problem. Removing the monster was the best way to protect the people you loved. Seeing Redemption like this was the worst Jam had ever felt in their friendship, especially knowing she’d brought him to the knowledge that did this to him.
All knowledge is good knowledge, Pet said.
I don’t know if that’s true, Jam thought back. It doesn’t feel true right now.
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