by D. D. Chance
“And how do you know the truth?” The question seemed natural enough, but Grim stiffened and scowled at me.
“Where I come from, we don’t have the luxury of ignoring what we are. We pay the price for it, nothing more.”
He gestured deeper into campus. “Can you find your way back to Fowlers Hall? I’ve got other things to do.”
It was implied that those other things did not include babysitting me across campus, and I was happy to agree.
“One problem.” I lifted a hand. “I don’t have a key card to get in. Should I just hang around at the front door until the guys show up?”
He made a face. “Use mine,” he said, fishing a lanyard out of his pocket. “Go in the front door, or if that doesn’t feel safe, there’s another entryway along the low stone wall thirty feet from the building.”
I peered at him. “There are back entryways into Fowlers Hall?” I asked disbelievingly, although at this point, nothing should surprise me about Wellington Academy.
Grim huffed a laugh, the sound easing my tension. “There are secret entryways into everything, if you know where to look. Will you be okay?”
That last question was so surprising that I smiled at him. That seemed to be the wrong thing to do, as he took a sharp step back and scowled. I pushed on anyway. “Yeah, I’ll be okay. You don’t need to worry about me, promise.”
He snorted, but didn’t say anything more. He turned on his heel and melted into the shadows, his pace kicking up to a trot—then a flat-out run.
I watched him go for a few seconds, marveling at his surprising grace and near-silent footfalls as he loped through campus. The night swallowed him up quickly, and I turned toward the monster quad of Wellington Academy and Fowlers Hall. Even as I took my first steps toward the residence hall, however, I hesitated.
Frost had said straight up that we had to solve the question of my family, and Grim had destroyed a grave marker that had been created specifically to taunt me about my mother. I needed to bring as much as I could to the table—everything I owned. My mother’s letter was triple locked and safely stored in an iron box at Lowell Library, but maybe there was something else in what I’d brought from home that could help. God knew there wasn’t much left in my apartment off campus—clothes, shoes, some of my spare knives. I should go and get them now, have them ready for whenever we were summoned in the morning.
My lips twisted. Okay, so I was avoiding going to Fowlers Hall. Sue me.
I changed direction, heading for the gates of Wellington Academy—and the world outside those gates, which was all that passed as freedom for me anymore.
I had to get out.
8
My mood lightened dramatically as I made my way across campus. I felt more relaxed, almost hopeful. The best I’d felt in a while, honestly. Maybe I should get away from Wellington more often? Maybe I should leave altogether? I was never one to back down from a fight, but I didn’t think the fight was the issue. It was just that I preferred to take out the big bads on my own, versus bringing down an entire campus with me.
I thought about the monsters ringing the chapel cemetery as Grim and I had raced past the tombstones. They’d been so furious—stomping, howling, crying out for…well, for me, I guess.
I scowled. What had I ever done to them? My whole life, monsters had cut me, bitten me, flat-out tried to eat me—me or, if I wasn’t paying enough attention to them, taken swipes at my friends and neighbors. It made for some pretty impressive motivation for me to step into the fray and kick some monster ass. But it wasn’t like the guys needed my help killing these things on the regular. They’d been doing fine on their own until I’d brought the monster whirlwind to campus.
Chewing over that, I turned the corner. The lights of the food-and-entertainment district came into view. There were students here, milling around, laughing and talking, enjoying the balmy late-May evening in Boston. Most classes had ended for the semester, though it seemed like there were still plenty of students on campus. But the attitude was looser, easier. Exactly what it should be for a university at the start of its summer term.
Maybe Wellington Academy wasn’t so different from regular colleges after all. Maybe for the right kind of student, it was like coming home.
I sighed, an unexpected twinge of sadness shimmering through me. Home. I’d thought it would be a homecoming for me as well, traveling to Boston. My mother had always smiled when she’d spoken about Back Bay, talking about the trees, the flowers, the beautiful summers, the horrible winters. The sense of history and mystery simmering in a haze of beer, baked beans, and lobster boils. She hadn’t talked a lot about her time here, but it always struck me as being a happy place for her. Or maybe she’d just seemed so wistful talking about it, I’d assumed it was because she loved her time here.
Either way, Grim was right. Liam would know how to decipher my mother’s letter and everything else I’d brought up with me. Once he peeked into that hidden world she’d created, which I’d played such an important part in without realizing it, he could tease out the truth once and for all.
Once I passed through the final walls of Wellington Academy—even the buried ones that circled the adjacent bars and cafés and offered a sort of half-assed protection—a weight lifted off my shoulders. To anyone looking my way, I was an ordinary college student walking along the sidewalks of Back Bay, Boston. I headed toward the hopping restaurant, indie store, and coffee shop district of Newbury Street. The stores here were all open late, taking advantage of the nice weather and foot traffic, and I happily stepped into the crowd.
I didn’t even mind that my path wasn’t taking me directly to my apartment, but to the Crazy Cup. After all, I’d posted up many a morning at the coffee shop after I’d first come to the city, mapping out the day’s search for my mom’s family. I hadn’t been there in several days, so I should probably get coffee now, I decided. Do my part to support the local economy and all that.
I pushed into the coffee shop. The baristas looked up, smiling in welcome. I’d been there often enough that they recognized me, which warmed me more than it should. See? I’m not a complete menace to society.
And to be fair, I was also helping the guys at Wellington, in my way. I mean, yes, I’d brought them more monsters to fight, but I’d leveled them up as well. Sure, that had proven to be a far more intimate process than teaching them a new fight move, and I’d only gotten to two of the guys so far, but…
Stop thinking about that. To refocus myself, I blurted out the first question I could think of to the barista. “So school’s letting out, looks like—what does that mean for you guys?” I tried, going for casual. “Have you been slammed more than usual?”
The barista serving me grinned back. “Oh, yeah, everybody’s been out with this weather, which is really great,” she enthused, her dark hair piled high on her head in an intricate sixties-style beehive that somehow managed to look chic, paired with her darkly lashed eyes and ruby-red lips. Her name was Betty, and despite the fact she’d been on the wrong side of a monster attack about a week earlier, she seemed in exceptional spirits. That was one of the unsung benefits of most monster attacks—if you survived them, you generally forgot they’d even happened pretty quickly.
“They’re tipping too, which is unusual,” Betty continued, her grin radiating satisfaction. “That means they’re tourists more than likely, but we’ve got no problem with that. It seems like there’s all sorts of new people in town these past few weeks.”
Something in her words caught me, and I frowned at her. “Yeah? You’ve gotten a sense there are more strangers around?”
“Oh, sure. I mean it’s the summer, right? Everybody wants to visit Boston in the summertime.”
“I guess so.” Her words made total sense, but I couldn’t help turning them over, looking for connections that probably weren’t there. “So you have about the same number of tourists every year?”
“I wouldn’t know, thank God.” She chattered happily as she wo
rked the coffee machine, adding milk to my espresso. “I’ve only worked here one year, so this is my first summer. Hopefully, I’ll be out of here after this summer.”
“Hey, hey, hey,” a second, older barista protested from the other side of the bar—Joe, I remembered. I’d really been here too often if I knew the baristas’ names. That or they worked way too much. “It’s not such a bad place, even with the crazy.”
“Oh, totally not,” Betty agreed. She handed over my insulated cup as Joe kept going.
“To answer your question, there are more tourists than usual, yep. I’ve been here going on three years, and we usually don’t get crowds like this until early fall, when the heat of the summer lets up. Boston can be kind of a mud fest some springs, so it doesn’t usually pull in a ton of people until later in June. The weather’s been kind of awesome for a few weeks, though, so maybe that’s what’s bringing them out. Either way, we’ll take it.”
“We totally will. Enjoy!” Betty danced back behind the countertop to greet the next customer, and I turned with my steaming cup, glancing over the room. There were some students, but also older singletons or couples hunched over their coffees or engaged in lively conversation—maybe a dozen customers in all. Still other people milled around outside the Cup, reveling in the warmer evening weather.
To me, there seemed to be a lot of folks on the sidewalk on a random May night, but maybe Joe was right and this was just a normal uptick of tourists coming in to enjoy the unusually pretty weather. I shoved my left hand into my pocket and felt the smooth edges of Grim’s key card, my fingers playing along the frayed edges of his lanyard.
I froze.
The group surrounding me in the coffee shop was no longer a mix of students, locals, and tourists—or at least those weren’t the only patrons. Two enormous gray wolves—easily seven feet long, with long, twitching snouts, high peaked ears, and ice-white eyes, had stationed themselves at the high table along one wall, their tails swishing. A man so emaciated he was barely more than a skeleton sat hunched over his coffee, his bony hands gripping his mug as he inhaled the steam rising from it. The steam floated out of his eye sockets and ears as I stared. Three feet away from him, two purple-hued wraiths, barely more than mist, swirled together in rapt conversation. Out of the dozen people in the coffee shop, fully five had transformed into monsters. I didn’t like those odds.
As I watched, gape mouthed, I sensed the creatures’ attention shifting, alarm slithering through the room. I released Grim’s lanyard, whipping my hand out of my pocket. Instantly, everyone returned to normal—the wolves turning back into a couple of rangy-looking biker types, the skeletal man transforming into a squat tweed-wrapped grandpa with white, tufted hair flaring over his ears, and the two wraiths a young, prep-school couple in love, practically wrapped around each other as they sipped their matching lattes.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Betty’s question jolted me, fortunately several decibels lower than her usual tone, and I realized I’d stopped short at the edge of the counter, as if afraid to move any deeper into the room. “You okay?”
“I’m totally good,” I said, lifting my insulated cup. “Thanks.”
She winked. “No worries! You should come back Tuesday night. Hugh over there plays guitar, and he’s offered to do a couple of sets to keep people entertained while he’s in town. It’ll be a full moon, so that’s going to be amazing.”
She gestured over to the far end of the room, and I didn’t need to turn to accept the fact that Hugh was undoubtedly one of the wolves I’d noticed a few seconds ago.
I nodded, still cheerful, but refused to look anywhere but at Betty. “I’d love to see that,” I agreed brightly. “Tuesday will be great.”
I had a feeling I wasn’t going to make it to Tuesday.
9
The moment I walked outside the Crazy Cup and scanned the street, a renewed chill crawled up my spine. I didn’t need to stick my hand in my pocket again to know I was surrounded by monsters.
Dammit, I shouldn’t even be out here. We were in the middle of a bona fide monster mash, and I was apparently the headline entertainment. It was stupid of me to be wandering around Boston by myself.
I pulled my phone out and sent a text to all four of the guys. It wasn’t Grim’s fault I hadn’t listened to him—he’d told me to get to Fowlers Hall. I wasn’t going to throw him under the bus.
Heading to apartment to get what’s left of my stuff. Realized I should probably have backup. Can any of you break free?
Liam texted back first. Where are you?
Crazy Cup, I confirmed.
All good?
I snorted. Um, no…but there was no way I was going to explain what I’d just seen at the coffee shop over text. Instead, I typed an affirmative, and Liam gave me the location of a shop down the street, some sort of half-price record store. As I walked, he continued texting.
Zach and Tyler are performing mind melds on the stuff from the basement, Grim is MIA. I’ll be there in 15. Stay on the line. Tell me your favorite songs.
I laughed, but did as he asked, keeping up a running commentary of my musical preferences as he directed me down the street to the store. I walked in and immediately understood why Liam had chosen this location. There was a different energy about the place, a sense of safety that had been distinctly lacking for me in the Crazy Cup. I looked around with surprise, but couldn’t immediately figure out what was so different here. A tattooed, goateed thirty-something was engaged in a heated conversation with somebody about the resurgence of vinyl, and the other patrons in the store seemed happily lost in their own music-focused bubbles. They all seemed incredibly…normal.
One way to tell for sure.
Steeling my nerves, I reached into my pocket and drifted my fingers along Grim’s lanyard—and blew out a long, careful breath. Relief washed through me.
Throughout the store, nothing had changed. These were ordinary people bonded together by their love of music, not supernatural beasties rocking out to some arcane monster ritual. Thank. God.
Liam showed up no more than ten minutes later, breathing hard, his backpack slung over both shoulders. I blinked at him, taking in his flushed skin, the sweat darkening his sandy-brown hair.
“Oh, man. I’m sorry,” I said automatically. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
He shot me a grin. “You didn’t scare me. You got me out of watching two other people do bullshit I can’t do and gave me a purpose for this evening. I appreciate it way more than you can possibly know.”
True enough, he fairly bounced on his toes. “So where to?” he continued. “Your apartment or back to the Crazy Cup? I assume the coffee shop is where you decided you needed backup? Why, are there bad guys there? Because if there are, I’m kind of in the mood to bash some heads, I’m just sayin’. So I’d be down with that.”
I laughed. I didn’t know that much about Liam, other than his insatiable curiosity and his willingness to dive headfirst into any new adventure. He seemed so much more open to learning more about whatever might be hiding around the corner then either Tyler or Zach, let alone Grim—who didn’t care what hid around the corner, he simply knew he was going to kill it.
“My apartment,” I decided. “And I’m glad to have you with me. Grim seemed to think you would be the most likely person to be able to decipher Mom’s letter from a glance. So you’ll be able to tell me if anything else I’ve left behind there is worthwhile.”
Liam blinked at me, genuinely surprised. “Really? He said that?” He sounded so taken aback that I frowned at him.
“Well, yeah. You know more than any of us about the history of this place, let alone all the monster spells.”
He considered that, then shrugged. “Okay, fair. It’s just kind of cool to hear Grim admit it. I always feel like most of the time he doesn’t quite know what to do with me.”
“Really? I figured you did a deep dive into his history at some point, and you all hashed things out.”
But
Liam shook his head. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, I tried. Frost put me on it almost immediately, and some of that research led me into some pretty dark places. The old world does not fool around when it comes to monster hunting. Best I could find, Grim’s family, if you want to call it that, was more of a mercenary guild. He probably never knew his real parents, and he certainly has never expressed any interest in returning home or having anything to do with the people who raised him. Our search yielded a string of dead creatures starting from when he was young, but was super sketchy on the details of his upbringing. There were no photos, no official records of him as a kid, nothing. Real love fest happening over there, basically.”
“It sounds like he had to grow up pretty fast.”
Liam chuckled. “Didn’t we all in our own ways,” he agreed, with such an underlying melancholy that I shot him a surprised glance. But as if sensing my shift of attention toward him, he waved his hands at me.
“Enough about that for a minute. What are we walking into at your apartment? Why are you so nervous?”
I blew out a sharp breath and realized I wanted to tell him the truth. I wanted to tell him everything. It wasn’t like when I was with Zach and I figured he could read my mind if I’d let him. It definitely wasn’t like my reaction to Tyler, who’d made me spill the beans about myself before I was ready with a well-thrown spell.
With Liam, I wanted to offer up the information because, well…he was smart. He could see connections and identify patterns, and he knew how to put things together. The only way that skill was going to work, though, was if I gave him all the pieces to the puzzle I had. At this point, I was tired of questions that had no answers. It was time to understand what was going on here.
“Grim gave me his lanyard and told me how to get into Fowlers Hall. Then he said he had to do something and took off,” I began, and Liam nodded.
