by Cate Dean
I looked from Jake to the Devil, and back to Jake. They knew each other—no, they acted like they were friends. With the glances and unspoken understanding that only people who spent time together acquired.
He moved to Sam. They were like the positive and negative: Jake all dark hair and dark eyes, and Sam with his streaked blonde hair and light grey-blue eyes. And they used to have opposing temperaments. Until Sam changed, in the sewers under our feet.
I pushed that memory out of my head. It was bad enough, standing in the same room with my nightmare. I didn’t need to relive watching Sam turn into something else.
Sam’s angry voice jerked me back.
“I don’t give a damn how sorry that thing is. I came here to find the truth, Jake. And it’s standing in my way.”
“She was here, Sam, ten years ago.” Sam’s head snapped up—and I watched everyone else in the room still. “Here.” He held out the tablet. “She spent her recovery time writing out what she remembers, and what lies she was told.”
I swallowed, my heart pounding. I was the reason for that recovery. Backing to the door, I didn’t hear any more of the conversation. I had to get out—it felt like the walls were closing in on me—
With my breath coming in harsh gasps, I stumbled out of the building, and in a déjà vu of my last encounter with the Devil I fell on my hands and knees, the boardwalk squealing under my weight.
Only this time, there were hands to help me sit, and strong, safe arms to hold me when I started crying.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Dad’s voice surrounded me, as warm and gentle as his embrace. “I’ve got you.”
I knew the others were watching. I just didn’t care. What happened down here finally hit, and hit hard. My reaction told me I’d been dodging it all this time—pretty successfully, since I thought I was dealing with it just fine. Apparently not.
Someone knelt next to us, took my hand. Misty—I smelled the vanilla lotion she put on in my bedroom. That felt like it was years ago. I was so tired—tired and heart sore, and I wanted to go home.
“Alex.” Jake’s voice had every muscle clenching.
“Not now,” Dad said, his voice low and angry. “And not you.”
“Then you can give this to Alex.” I blinked tears out of my eyes and saw the tablet in his hand. The Devil’s tablet. “Part of this is meant for her.”
“Get that away—”
“It’s okay, Dad.” I sounded like I’d been crying for a year. “I need to read it.”
“Alex.” He cradled the back of my head. “I don’t want you to do this.”
“I know.” I managed a ghost of my smile. “I don’t, either. But I need to.”
He kissed my forehead. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”
He always was—and I loved him like crazy because of it.
Rubbing my back, he handed me the tablet, and finally let me go, standing. Misty squeezed my hand and joined him. “She’ll be okay, Mr. Finch. I don’t know anyone as strong as Alex.”
Misty Corwin—cheerleader, prom queen, philosopher. And my friend.
Just the thought threatened to choke me up again.
I looked at the tablet to distract myself, surprised to find a long, typed document. The language was simple, but it got the thoughts of the author across. Swallowing, I started to read.
You were an enemy to me, Alex Finch. I thought you meant harm. I hunted you to stop you from hunting me.
I closed my eyes. How did I ever get on a monster’s hit list? The next sentence told me—and knocked the breath out of my lungs.
I saw you fight the Fenris Wolf, and knew you would come for me next.
She was there—at the McGinty house.
I set the tablet down before I dropped it, trying to wrap my mind around this whole surreal scenario. I’d just read words typed by a monster. A monster that saw me as a threat. Me. I didn’t know whether to be flattered or terrified.
No wonder it stalked me like I was on its hit list. I was—number one with a bullet.
Footsteps warned me before Jake sat next to me on the boardwalk. “You okay?”
“I’m—not sure. Did you—” I waved at the tablet.
“She had me read it, to make sure what she meant to say was actually getting across. You need to finish reading.”
“I can’t.” Jake picked up the tablet. “No—Jake, please—”
“I knew I was wrong to fear you when you had grief after harming me.” He looked over at me, and handed the tablet back. “She wants to apologize, for causing you so much pain.”
“Why did it—she—leave the pendant on my door?”
“Ask her yourself.”
He stepped aside. And I nearly had heart failure again when I saw the Devil in the doorway, backlit by the glow of candles.
I recoiled as one clawed hand reached for me—and regretted it when I saw anguish in those glowing green eyes. Too late I realized she was reaching for the tablet. Mortified, I held it out, wanting to apologize and run at the same time.
Watching her tap on the screen again was even more surreal than the first time. She handed it back to me and stepped away. To make me feel safer. What I felt instead was shame. Wasn’t that a turnaround.
I looked at the single line on the screen.
Pendant was to help you understand. To lead you here.
A note explaining that would have been nice—and saved me from the sleepless nights I’d had since I found it. “Lead me to the haven?”
Jake nodded. “She knew you’d be sympathetic. Because of Sam.”
I swallowed. “Right.”
The Devil started tapping on the screen again, and held it out for me to read.
Little girl will lead you to truth.
“Katie?” My head snapped up. I so didn’t want her part of this—she had been hurt enough. “Can you tell me—” My voice stuck in my throat. I was talking to a monster. How much weirder could my life get? “How can I start—without involving her?”
“You’re not, Alex,” Sam said. He stood in the doorway, a blanket draped over his shoulders, his chest bandaged. “You’re not going to be part of this.”
“Like hell, I’m not.” I pushed to my feet, and got in his face. “It’s beyond too late to keep me out of this, Sam. I’m all in, whether you like it or not. So stop trying to leave me behind.”
“I want you safe.”
Letting out a sigh, I touched his cheek. “And I want you here. We don’t always get what we want.” I limped past him, my ankle hurting from the damp. Dad waited for me. I shut him down before he could say a word. “That goes for you, too. I’m committed, for better or—you know the rest. Right now, I want to go home.”
Sam moved to my side. “Alex—”
“You all can meet me there, if you want to hash this out. I have to put my foot up.” I turned around, ready to storm out. The Devil waited for me. And it was time to say to her face what I whispered when I thought she was dying. “I’m sorry, for hurting you. I thought—”
One clawed hand closed over my shoulder. Those same claws marked my back, hurt Jake, hurt the brothers who were dragged down here for someone else’s agenda—
I stopped that hamster wheel before it drove me crazy. Again. We’d find the answers. After all, half the people in this room were directly connected to it.
The Devil nodded to me, laid her other hand on the spot where I knew the jagged edge of the iron bar penetrated.
“Does it—hurt?” She shook her head, and I let out a sigh.
It clogged in my throat when she took my hand and pressed it against her chest. I felt a knob of scar tissue, already hard with what would have been the result of months of healing. Seemed like a common monster trait was the ability to heal fast. Probably came in handy in the past, with all the fire and pitchforks.
“I’m going to go now,” I said. I looked into the glowing eyes, surprised that my heart jumped a little less every time. “I’ll find out who took those kids. You
didn’t hurt them, did you?” She shook her head, anger flaring across the teddy bear face. “Yeah, I figured as much. But you did attack Jake.”
“For trying to stop her from helping Katie.”
I turned to Jake. “What?”
“We didn’t see the person following Katie, ready to grab her before the Devil intervened. She recognized my scent from when I—checked out her nest, and thought I was in on it.”
“And ten years ago? How much did she have to do with the fire?”
“We did what we had to ten years ago.” The new voice spun us around. And I almost dropped to the floor when I saw Mrs. Swiller standing in the doorway, a medieval crossbow in her hands. A familiar crossbow. If not for the distinctive, prissy voice, I wouldn’t have recognized her. She was dressed in men’s clothes, her hair tucked under a ski cap, and she looked like . . . a man. The male accomplice— “You should have let it go, Alex. It should have ended with the fire. But we found out too late that not all of them burned.”
She turned on the Devil and pulled the trigger.
9
Shouting filled the room—and to my shock, Dad tackled Mrs. Swiller just as the crossbow fired. Jake, Misty and Candace shoved the Devil to the floor and Sam shoved me against the wall. The bolt slammed into the far wall, where the Devil had been standing, still quivering when I looked over at it.
Dad hauled Mrs. Swiller to her feet, yanked the crossbow out of her hands. “What the hell are you thinking, Irene? Shooting that weapon in a room full of innocents—”
“You know better, Raleigh. How can you defend that abomination? After it attacked your own daughter?”
“What happened ten years ago was the abomination.”
“It was self-preservation! They were invading, feeling entitled. And with that spell, allowing them to walk among us unnoticed, they were no longer confined to Hyattown. You would have done the same, had you known.”
For the second time in two months I saw Dad’s almost unheard of anger spark. “Never lump me in with your pack of fanatics. Good people died in that fire—”
“People helping them!” She pointed at the Devil, her normally disciplined voice spiraling to a screech. She had no idea more than one monster stood in the room with her. “You cannot let them back in. We have to keep them from destroying—”
“I have lived in this town my entire life, Irene. And I knew nothing about them, until last month. So your talk of them taking over is the same narrow-minded rhetoric I’ve heard for years, about anyone who is different.”
I wanted to applaud. Dad has always been my hero, but I have never been more proud of him. Of course, it was going to make study period a living hell. I’d get over it.
“You—how—” Mrs. Swiller sputtered. I don’t think—nope, I’ve never seen her like this. I almost respected her after I found out about the secret computer in her office. This blew any chance of that turning into actual respect.
Dad took her arm, led her to the doorway. “I am taking you back up, and we will not say anything about this.”
“But—”
“My daughter is involved now, as well as her friends. And I will protect them, by whatever means necessary. Is that clear enough for you?”
“Wow,” Misty whispered. She stood next to me, sky blue eyes wide as she watched the school tyrant brought down by my mild, smiling dad. “He is beyond cool.”
“Yeah.” I kept seeing new sides of Dad. I wondered what surprise he would spring on me next. “Let’s get out of here.” I had reached my monster-face-to-face saturation level.
I ducked under Sam’s arm, refusing to look at him. Misty took my hand, and we followed Dad and Mrs. Swiller out. For the first time in my life, I had a real best friend. A “let’s eat ice cream because you need to” friend. I never in a million years expected it to be Ms. Popular, head of the populars. Even more surprising, she turned out to be nice. Genuinely nice.
So much had changed in such a short time my head still spins thinking about it. Now Mrs. Swiller turning vigilante just added to the strange. Even with the head spinning, the monsters, the constant and not always pleasant surprises, I wouldn’t change a minute. Well, not most of them.
Sam stopped us at the edge of the boardwalk.
“Is that true, Alex? What your dad said about you being involved?”
I turned to face him, braced for his anger when I answered. The sight of him bare chested, backlit by the glow of candles, nearly lodged my heart in my throat. I swallowed, determined not to let it distract me. “Every word.”
“You can’t—”
“Stop.” I pulled free of Misty’s grip and limped over to him. “When you left, you gave up any right to tell me what to do. Not that you’d have it if you’d stayed.” I wanted to touch him, so badly, to break through the invisible wall that stood between us. “This is my town, and I will uncover the secrets that hurt so many people. Those secrets touched my family, and I won’t let it hurt them.”
He stared at me, like he’d never seen me before. Frankly, I was surprised by the words that came out of my mouth. I guess the new confidence didn’t leave town with Sam.
Before I could say something stupid and ruin it, I spun around and limped down the street, Misty following after me. “I don’t know who I admire more now,” she said. “You, or your dad.”
“I didn’t—”
“Oh, yes, you did. I have never seen Sam speechless.”
“Oh.” I didn’t want to be smug, but oh, I was. Sam had ruled my life for so long, it was almost freeing to be able to say my piece and walk away.
Don’t get me wrong—I am still stupid in love with him, but I learned over the last month that I would still breathe, function, even live, without his constant presence. Another miracle.
We climbed up the ladder, and crawled out behind the McGinty house. It was cold, but clear. I loved late fall, and wouldn’t mind the walk home. Especially since Misty was with me. Walking fast, just short of actually running, we got out of the overgrown yard. I breathed easier once we hit the sidewalk. I would never feel comfortable there, no matter how much time passed.
I looked over at Misty. “You want to do some work on the English project?”
“Oh, yeah—love to,” she said. I laughed, knowing how much she struggled to get through the book. “I didn’t mean—I know how hard you worked on the notes—”
“Stop digging the hole, Misty.”
“Okay.” She grinned at me. “I am grateful that you’ve done most of the work.”
“Good to know.”
I enjoyed her still surprising, sharp wit. I never expected to find someone my age who got my brand of sarcasm.
“Hey,” Misty said. “I have an idea—and I won’t be offended if it horrifies you. Being a tomboy and all.”
“Right—what’s the idea?”
“We could have a sleepover.” I halted, staring at her. No one had ever invited me to a sleepover. Never mind having one of my own. “What? Too weird?”
“No—I just . . .”
It was Misty’s turn to stare. “You’ve never been to a sleepover, have you?” I shook my head, feeling heat flare across my cheeks. “That clinches it—you’re about to experience your first, genuine, girly sleepover. No pink required,” she said, smiling.
“Thank goodness. You know I don’t—”
“Do pink. Yeah—sorry about making you wear the robe. I don’t think I ever apologized.”
“Don’t worry about it. That was before you knew—”
Bright light flashed behind us. We both turned around—and I registered the car coming straight at us just before it jumped the sidewalk.
I grabbed Misty and pushed her into the bushes, falling in after her. The side of the car brushed the bushes as it roared past, inches from my feet. I jerked my legs up and held my breath, listening for the car to come back and finish its attempt to run us down—because that was not an “oops, I’m texting and didn’t see you” blunder. That car was aiming for u
s.
My heart stopped pounding against my ribs as the engine faded, and silence ruled the night.
Misty groaned next to me. I was right there with her. At least the bushes didn’t have thorns. Just thick, painful-to-land-on branches.
I crawled backward, my body screaming at the abuse. Misty followed me, dirt on her face, small twigs caught in her waist length blonde hair. Her beautiful sweater was torn, and streaks of green marked her pants. I was pretty sure I looked about as beat up. I sure felt like I’d thrown myself into unyielding bushes.
“Are you okay?”
Misty pushed hair out of her face. “I could be worse. Thanks for the push.”
I managed a smile. “Anytime.”
Both of us limping now, we made it back to my house without another incident. Misty leaned against my MG, rubbing her elbow. “Ouch, that’s going to leave a mark—hey, what’s that?”
She reached toward the front windshield. I saw what she was going for, flapping against the glass in the cold breeze blowing off the nearby ocean. A folded piece of paper. Handing it over to me, she hugged herself.
I took a shaky breath, opened the note. Scrawled across it in block letters was a message, and a threat.
STOP INVESTIGATING THE FIRE.
LET THE DEAD LIE.
“So,” Misty said, reading the note over my shoulder. “I guess that car jumping the sidewalk wasn’t an accident.”
I nodded, my fingers shaking against the paper.
Sometimes I really hated being right.
10
Mom greeted us at the door—and her smile faded when she got a good look.
“Go sit in the kitchen. Both of you.”
I never argued with that tone. I knew better.
Misty followed me, and lowered herself to the closest chair with a moan. “My bruises have bruises.”
“Yeah.”
Mom came back before I could say anymore. Setting her well-stocked first aid kit on the table, she looked at both of us. “I don't know which of you to start with. Can you tell me what happened?”