Alex Finch

by Cate Dean

  I swept my flashlight beam around the room, looking for anything I could use to fight back. Anything.

  Broken, rotting furniture littered the floor, smashed picture frames leaning against the walls. The torn remains of the photos were scattered across the floor, like someone in a rage tore them apart. Beyond the carnage I spotted another doorway, in the opposite wall. Hoping I wasn't about to trap myself, I moved toward it, expecting the monster to come crashing through the door at any second.

  Halfway across the room the smell hit me—that same sweet scent, with a familiar undertone. Heart pounding, I stopped in the doorway, let my flashlight scan the interior. And froze when I heard the low growl behind me. I had found the monster's nest—the real nest.

  And it had found me.

  ~ ~ ~

  Every brain cell screamed at me to turn around. Instead I bolted into the nest, hoping I could find something in there to defend myself. Or a way out. The coward in me was definitely praying for a way out.

  The flashlight beam found color, and more color. Every sweep landed on a swath of fabric, a pile of bright pillows, curtains framing a window.

  A window.

  I headed for it, realizing how huge the room was when it took longer than I expected to get to the wall with my escape route. I knew the monster was behind me. I could feel it, smell it.

  Why didn't it come after me?

  Once I got to the window I understood.

  Bars covered it—thick iron bars I didn't see because they blended with the dark. As I flashed my light across them I noticed there was one bar missing. Maybe I could squeeze through . . .

  That hope died when I focused my flashlight on the narrow space left by the bar. I was small, but not that small—

  A flat yellow glow splashed over the bars. A familiar glow that stopped my heart.

  Letting out a shaky breath, I turned around, my heart starting up again, and pounding so hard I felt it in my throat. The monster stood in the middle of the room, those glowing green eyes watching me. I finally had time to see the source of that glow, sitting in the middle of its chest. A pendant, hanging from a worn leather cord. A pendant shaped like the Algiz rune. Safe haven.

  It came back, expecting to find just that. Or—God, maybe it never left—

  All thought flew out of my head as it smiled, the attempt horrifying, and reached up to touch the pendant. The yellow glow winked out, leaving my flashlight as the sole light source. Those green eyes studied me, unblinking, the rest of it blending into the darkness. And I understood the reason for the spiked fur. I couldn't see where its body ended and the dark around it began. The perfect camouflage.

  It took a step forward. I recoiled, slamming into the wall.

  My bare foot hit something cold and solid. I pointed my flashlight down, just long enough to see the length of iron. The missing bar. And I got an idea. A stupid, likely to get me killed idea, but at this point I had nothing else. I had to play in the monster’s midnight world, but I was going to do it on my terms.

  I pointed the flashlight straight at its eyes, its scream soundtracking my moves. It never seemed to understand the danger of the flashlight until too late. All I cared about was the extra seconds it gave me.

  Crouching down, I grabbed the iron bar, whispered a quick prayer, and turned off the flashlight.

  The bar turned out to be heavier than I expected. Slipping the flashlight in my hoodie, I gripped it with both hands and stood, closed my eyes, and listened. My dance teacher’s voice echoed through my head.

  “You will listen to Madame Chloe, feel my voice. Now move, and feel your partner—keep your eyes closed, let the blindfold do its work. Listen, sense, touch. Find them, dance with them, feel the music. You do not need to see to know.”

  I heard the monster shift, just to my left, a low growl rumbling in its throat. It could see me—how clearly I wasn’t sure, but I knew by the light sensitive eyes, and the listing in the guide, that it was nocturnal. I just hoped it took more than a few seconds for it to recover from the flashlight beam.

  Swallowing the panic that clawed up my throat, I forced myself to focus, let my other senses kick in.

  The smell came at me first, then the sense of movement. And just like in dance class, I could almost see the monster’s hand reach for me. I swallowed, prayed I was right, and swung the bar straight up.

  It smacked into something, the impact nearly wrenching the bar out of my grip. I knew by the angry screech I had hit my target. I heard the claws tap on wood, moving away from me. My wrists ached from the first blow, and the weight of the bar. At most I had one more shot—

  I screamed when the monster tackled me.

  The bar flew out of my hands as we slid over the fabric draped on the floor. I opened my eyes, looking right into the furious, glowing green eyes inches from my face. I let out another scream as claws found the bare skin of my back, tried to escape them when they scraped their way up to my shoulder. I could hardly breathe for the pain.

  The monster looked down at me, and I could see the triumph in those slitted eyes. It knew I was done, and now it just had to finish me off.

  I was trapped, and I lashed out the only way I could.

  I poked my fingers in its eyes.

  A horrible shriek blasted me. The monster threw me across the room, and I hit the far wall back first. Fresh pain roared through me. I slid to the floor, forced myself to keep moving. I had to get out—I didn’t have anything left if it came after me again.

  I managed to get as far as the front door before the pain in my back dropped me. I dragged myself over the threshold and on to the boardwalk, listening for any sounds of pursuit. All I heard was a quiet whimpering, and in spite of everything, guilt speared through me.

  Pushing it aside, I got to my hands and knees. My fingers brushed against a hard, cold object. I pretty much knew what it had to be before I looked down. The iron bar.

  I grabbed it, feeling safer with the weight in my hand, and crawled as fast as I could to the edge of the boardwalk. With every move, the fabric of my shirt rubbed at the scrapes on my back, until it felt like my skin was on fire.

  I made it to the end of the boardwalk and eased my legs over the edge. Next step, standing. I hoped it would actually happen once I put weight on my legs. The bar would come in handy for that. I braced it against the ground, held on with both hands and leaned over.

  That move saved my life.

  The monster clipped my shoulder instead of tackling me. It was enough to knock me off the boardwalk. Instinct had me jerking the bar up. Just as the monster charged me.

  The raw edge punched into its body like a lance. Horrified, I let go. The monster sank to its knees, gripping the iron bar in one claw, the other tearing at the wound, each move weaker. Thick, dark liquid poured over both claws, pooling on the dirt. Blood—

  I let out a low cry and crabbed backward. I couldn’t leave, knowing I’d caused this. So I knelt, tears streaming down my face, and watched the monster collapse, curling around the bar before it went still.

  The knowledge of what I had just done drove through me. I wrapped both arms around my waist, the pain of it wringing sobs out of me.

  I had killed.

  23

  I would have knelt there, crying myself into oblivion, if not for a pained yelp somewhere behind me.

  “No . . .” I couldn’t do it again. It already felt like my heart had been ripped out. I couldn’t kill again.

  The yelp came again—only this time I recognized it. “Sam?”

  I stumbled to my feet, taking one last look at the monster. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. My shaking fingers stopped just before I touched it. “I never meant—I just wanted to keep the kids safe, to get away . . .” Nothing I said would change what happened.

  I limped toward the alley, and the sewer entrance I’d climbed out of, moving faster when I saw a pale figure sprawled next to the entrance. Gaslights flickered over the familiar face, the streaked blonde hair. “Sam!” I
halted, one hand covering my mouth. “Oh . . .”

  Sam was on his side, his back to me, very human. And very naked. Heat spread over my face. I looked down at my hoodie, and pulled it off. It was maybe big enough to cover his rather spectacular butt. Hey—how could I not notice? It was right there.

  The long, ugly scars running down his left thigh distracted me from the view. They looked as old as the scars on his shoulder, but these wounds had been deep, and potentially crippling. Then I saw, just below his knee, a vicious bite mark, the scars thick and ugly. And bleeding.

  I glanced from my small hoodie to Sam’s muscular body. It was not going to cover much. He may have been lean, but there was more than six feet of him.

  I lowered myself to the ground and draped it over his hip, startled by the long slashes on the sleeve. Sam had more control than he thought—I didn’t even have a scratch on my arms from his claws.

  Cradling his head, I brushed sweat matted hair off his cheek. “Sam.” He groaned. “Sam, please, you need to wake up.”

  He opened his eyes—and I barely kept myself from dropping him. His eyes still looked like the animal that threatened me, chased me right to the monster.

  No—I'm not going to blame him. Not for something he had no control over.

  He blinked, and his eyes changed, back to the grey-blue I grew up loving, wanting to notice me. Never in my wildest dreams could I have ever thought up this scenario.

  “Alex,” he whispered. Then his eyes widened, and he tried to free himself. “Get away from me.” He didn’t have the strength to pull free, and I wasn’t all that strong myself at the moment, which told me he was worse off than he looked. “I don't want to hurt you again—I can't control—”

  “Sam.” He closed his eyes. “We'll deal with it, after I get you out of here.”

  “The kids?”

  “Safe, I'm pretty sure. I sent them up top, so they should be with everyone else. Sam, Katie was one of them.”

  He met my eyes. We would have to talk about the significance of that. Once we got out of here.

  “I need to—” He tried to sit, let out a low moan.

  “Sam.” I didn't know how to be delicate about it, so I told him fast. “You're naked.”

  “I'm—what?” He looked down at himself, and color flushed his cheeks. “Is that—”

  “My hoodie. It's all I had. You will have to, um,” I waved my hands in the direction of the hoodie. “Adjust it yourself.”

  The flush deepened, and his hand hovered over the scars on his leg before he sat and tried to, unsuccessfully, wrap the hoodie around himself. He finally gave up, and tied it around his hips, the majority of the fabric hanging down in front.

  “Okay.” He started to run one hand through his hair, and gave up when it got caught in the matted length. His head snapped up. “Where is the monster?”

  “I—” Swallowing, I blinked back the tears that threatened again. My whisper barely crossed the space between us. “I killed it.”

  “Alex.” He laid one hand on my shoulder—and hit the top of the scrapes left by the monster. I recoiled, hissing from the pain flaring across my back. “Let me see.”

  “It’s nothing—”

  “Turn around.”

  I did, heat spreading across my face when I felt him lift my shirt. I’m—let’s just say not gifted in the chest area. As in I missed the line when they handed those out.

  I usually wear a camisole, but with all the scrapes and bruises I’d acquired lately, I chose a dark, loose shirt instead. So when Sam lifted the hem, he got an eyeful of bare skin.

  He touched my back, the warmth of his fingers sending a different kind of heat through me. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d been hurt?”

  “Not important.” I eased away from him, pulling my shirt down. “We need to get you out of here.” I pushed up to my knees, and kept moving, so he wouldn’t say anything embarrassing, or fuss over me. Right now, I didn’t deserve it. “Think you can stand?”

  “We’ll find out.”

  Sam lifted his left arm, flinching at the movement. I figured he pretty much hurt everywhere, after the—change. I tucked myself under his arm, the weight of him against me familiar now, and something I would miss. Horribly. I had no delusions of us being any more than friendly strangers after this was over. “Ready?”

  He nodded, and shifted, slowly standing on his own. The muscles in his legs quivered, but they held him up. His strength always impressed me on the playing field, but even more so now, after what he’d been through.

  Sweat slicked his skin, soaking into my cotton shirt. “Sam?”

  “Okay,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Let’s just get out of here.”

  I nodded, my throat tightening as I realized we would have to pass the body of the monster to get to the exit. Leading Sam down the side of the building, I braced myself to face what I’d done. And jerked to a halt after we turned the corner.

  The body was gone.

  “Oh, God.” Relief left me shaking—relief that I didn’t kill it.

  A second later, panic stomped on the relief. I didn’t kill it—so it was still here, and obviously not as dead as I thought.

  “—wrong? Alex.” My head snapped up at Sam’s voice. “What?”

  “The monster—here.” I pointed, my arm shaking from the shock of not seeing what should be in the middle of the street.

  “The body is gone.” I nodded. He admirably followed my babbling. “Then let’s get out of here, before we find it.”

  “Right.” I shoved down the panic, and focused on moving Sam forward. We passed the spot where it should have been, and I saw the pool of dark liquid, almost black in the low, flickering gaslight. A should-be-dead-it-bled-out-so-much size pool. I must have made a sound, because Sam tightened his grip on my shoulder. “Okay.” I offered him what I hoped looked like a smile. “Almost there.”

  Now I just had to figure out how to get a six foot naked guy up the ladder.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Alex!” Dad’s voice echoed down the hole.

  “Dad . . .” For the second time relief almost knocked me over. “Is everyone okay? Do you have the kids—”

  “Katie’s fine, sweetheart. They’re all fine.” I leaned my forehead against the ladder, tears stinging my eyes. “Is Sam with you?”

  “Yes—we’re going to need some help. He was—” I looked at him, and he shrugged, turning his head away. I could feel him withdrawing, even though I still had both arms wrapped around him. “I won’t tell them, Sam, but we need some help.” He gripped the ladder, nodded. I called back up to Dad. “Is Candace with you?”

  “Yes, she is,” Candace said. I smiled. “Does she need her first aid kit?”

  “Not until we get up there.”

  “Thank God. I thought I was going to have to stitch up another Emmett on the fly. Back away from the ladder, I’m coming down.”

  I settled Sam against the closest wall, He slid his arm off my shoulders, and stared at the ground. Here it was—time for the brush-off. “Alex—”

  “Stop.” He lifted his head, surprise clear on his face. “I don’t need the added rejection on top of everything else.”

  “Alex, I—”

  “Let’s just call this a win, and go back to the way things were.” Like I could ever forget what I saw, what I knew now. I glanced up when I heard the sound of shoes tapping on the metal rungs, and could see soft light beyond Candace. “Happy Halloween, Sam.”

  “What—”

  “It’s tomorrow. Today.” I blinked, feeling the tears I knew I wouldn’t be able to control. “Take care of yourself.” Candace dropped down to the ground and turned, one eyebrow raised when she saw Sam. “You can handle this from here?”

  She opened her mouth, probably to throw a smart comment, but only nodded after a long look at me. “Go on. Your dad’s worried.”

  I didn’t take that one last look at Sam. Instead, I grabbed the ladder, and started climbing, tears already sliding down
my cheeks.

  24

  Mom was waiting for us when we got home.

  “Beth.” Dad halted just inside the door, half-carrying me. We were bloody and battered, and I was still in tears. “Alex was caught in—”

  “If you can’t tell me the truth, Raleigh, stop talking.” We both stared at her. “I’m not an idiot, you know. Something has been going on, and I will wait until you feel you can tell me. Just don’t keep me waiting too long.”

  She took us into the kitchen, examined all of Candace’s handiwork, then set a plate in front of each of us—with what had been a well-planned turkey dinner. Now it was cold, the gravy a glop of brown goo on the mashed potatoes, and the rest of it just as unappetizing. Dad flinched.

  “Honey, I—”

  “Call the next time you’re going to try to save the world while lying to me about it. I’ll hold dinner for you. Now go to bed, Raleigh. I’ll take Margaret up.”

  That stopped his protest. I fought to control my tears as he limped out of the kitchen, a low moan accompanying every step.

  “Mom.” She turned around, and I caught the fear on her face before she managed to cover it with a smile. “I’m sorry.”

  The smile faded. “I want to believe you trust me, sweetheart, as much as you trust your father.”

  That stung. Worse, I deserved it.

  “I do. It’s just—you—”

  “Panic easily?” She sat down, took my hands. “When it comes to you, I have a hard time. We are so different—I loved dolls, and wanted to be a mom. You wear motorcycle boots, and try to kill yourself on that mountain bike of yours. No, let me finish.” I closed my mouth. “That doesn’t mean I won’t protect you with my life if necessary.”

  “Mom—” The tears came again. I seemed to have lost control over them.

  She helped me stand, careful of my bandaged back, and led me through the quiet house. “Tell me what you can, when you can, sweetheart. Until then, I’ll trust you to come home again when you walk out that door.”