A Monster's Death

by Raven Steele

  Aris Crow

  Rachel McClellan

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  A Monster’s Birth

  Newsletter Sign Up

  Other books by Raven Steele:

  "Not every boy thrown to the wolves becomes a hero."

  * * *

  ~John Barth, attributed, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius

  1

  I watched Emma from the rooftops hidden beneath the night sky where she would never suspect my presence. She slid the strap of her purse up over her shoulder and paused on the sidewalk to rub at the back of her neck. She’d gotten off work later than usual. I had to wait nearly an hour longer on the rooftop across the street from where she worked.

  But she was worth the wait. Always had been.

  Leaping over to the next rooftop, I kept even with her pace, glancing at her as much as possible. Just like when I first met her when we were children, her beauty took my breath away and made my heart ache. It was the best kind of pain imaginable.

  I liked to see Emma home after she got off work, but lately that wasn’t always possible with Roman’s vigorous training schedule. I wish I could’ve walked her home by her side, but she believed me dead long ago. It was safer for her that way.

  Just as Emma turned a corner, two men stepped out of an alley behind her. I hoped they’d turn the opposite direction, but they followed after her. It might be nothing, but there was something about them that set me on edge. Maybe it was the way they walked with purpose, their eyes keenly focused on the back of her, or maybe it was the glint of a silver gun I’d caught in one of the men’s jackets.

  I dropped from the rooftop of an old furniture building and followed after them, keeping to the shadows.

  “Hey sexy!” the tallest one called up to her. “Slow down. We want to talk to you.”

  Emma picked up her pace. So did I.

  Within seconds, they had caught up to her and were shoving her toward the narrow entrance of a nearby alleyway.

  “Leave me alone!” she cried, swatting at their hands. She turned and ran the only direction she could—toward the rear of the alley, which I knew was a dead end.

  “Play nice, pretty lady,” the shorter one said. “Our questions won’t last long.”

  His buddy shoved him. “Speak for yourself. I plan on interrogating her all night long.”

  They both laughed a wicked sound that grated my insides.

  Avoiding light from a lamppost, I sprinted across the street, blind rage threatening to take over. After years of keeping my distance, I would have to risk exposure. It was as simple as that. Maybe she wouldn't see me; it was dark enough, after all. The moon's glow was trapped behind heavy clouds and half the streetlights had been smashed long ago.

  "Don't touch me!" Emma swung a fist at the tall, skinny one. It connected with his face hard enough to send spittle flying across the alley, the meaty slap echoing off the brick walls. She followed it up with a foot to the man’s groin. He dropped to his knees, holding his crotch and moaning.

  Pride swelled in my chest as I crept along behind them, hugging the shadowy walls and stepping over piles of garbage and rotten food. She was an excellent fighter, something I had encouraged her to be since we were little. Even at such a young age, I knew the dangers Coast City held. One simply couldn't live here—one had to survive here.

  The other man wearing a stained tank top glanced down at Skinny and back up at Emma. "Bitch!"

  He swung a hairy fist toward her, but she ducked and took off running. At the last second, Skinny reached out and snagged her foot. She fell forward so fast she didn't have time to throw her arms in front of her. She hit her head on the side of a large, rusted garbage bin before collapsing, her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

  Unleashing my rage, I leapt from the shadows and smashed my fist into the man still lunging for her. He flew back several feet and crashed to the filthy ground next to Skinny.

  I dropped next to Emma and cradled her to my chest. I smoothed her brown hair back to inspect the wound. An angry, red mark swelled on her forehead. She was going to have a nasty bump. It felt strange, yet familiar, to be this close to her again. It had been eight years since she thought I had disappeared from her life for good. I had just turned twelve. Her eyelids grew heavy as she attempted to look at me, but I turned away until she lost consciousness only a second later.

  I glared at the two men, my fingers curling into my palms. I couldn't wait to make them feel the pain they had just caused Emma. "You shouldn't have done that."

  Skinny had come to his feet, but was still doubled over, his face red.

  "We're just getting started," Tank Top sneered. "If you know what's good for you, you'll leave the girl and run home."

  "I'm not going anywhere." I gently set Emma down, disgusted that it had to be on dirty cement that reeked of urine and rotten potatoes. I rose to my full height, which was at least two inches taller than Skinny. The men's eyes widened when they saw my size. Good.

  "You wouldn't be messing with us if you knew who we were," Skinny growled, trying to frighten me.

  I stepped toward them, safely shielding Emma behind me. "Let me guess. Victor's thugs, destroying the city one person at a time? Don't you lowlifes have anything better to do? Maybe you should try being real men instead of Victor's little bitches."

  Skinny withdrew a nine millimeter from behind his back and pointed it at me. "Let me teach you how a real man fires a gun."

  Before he could shoot, I darted up the side of the brick wall next to him, spun, and came down hard with a closed fist to his face. He dropped to the ground, out cold. Tank Top fumbled with something behind his back, probably another gun, but I smashed my fist into his sternum, heard it crack, and he crashed into the brick building on the other side of the alley. Even though I had fractured his sternum, I was careful not to use too much force. I could've easily crushed his chest if I had wanted to. And I did want to, the darkness inside me craved it, but I was about saving lives, not destroying them, even if they were criminals. That's how my father, Jonas Crow, had taken care of crime in Coast City before I was born, and I was going to do the same one day. Just like they knew my father's name, people would know mine: Aris Crow.

  Tank Top moaned as he slid down the wall. I caught him before he slumped to the ground and pinned his shoulders to the building, my hands aching to crush his bones. "Why were you attacking this woman?"

  Tank Top's eyes tracked over to Emma, who was still unmoving. "I've got nothing to say to you."

  "Really?" I dug my fingers into his collarbone until he cried out and punched at me, but I barely felt the blow.

  "Why her?" I stressed again. Victor kept his men under a tight leash. They never did anything without him knowing about it. I hooked my two fingers under the dude's bone a
nd prepared to jerk upwards.

  "To get at the judge!" Tank Top yelled. Sweat ran down the sides of his fat face and dripped onto his shoulders.

  I let go of his collarbone, but kept his shoulders against the wall. Emma's mother was a district judge. Victor must have wanted something from her and planned to use Emma to get it.

  "Nice tattoo," Tank Top said, his voice low as his gaze focused on the tattoo of a crow's head on my neck. He dropped his arms, giving up on trying to budge me.

  I resisted the urge to withdraw from him. I should've been more prepared. Roman had been warning me for as long as I could remember to protect my identity at all costs. Even though my tattoo wasn't a dead giveaway, it might make someone ask questions.

  "The Crow had one, too," Tank Top said. "I know because he saved me once from being shot by old man Moretti. Crow had nuts bigger than a T-Rex to go against that crazy freak. Crow busted Moretti's head like it was a melon. Coolest thing I've ever seen." His gaze dropped to my tattoo again. "So what you doin' with it?"

  I butted him in the head, dropping him to the ground unconscious. Roman, my guardian since my parents died when I was a baby, wasn't going to be happy, but I couldn't worry about that right now. The chances were low that someone would connect me to my father. Everyone believed I was dead.

  I hurried back to Emma. Her eyes were closed and she breathed steadily. A large goose egg had already formed near her hairline.

  The storm inside me calmed as I lightly ran my fingertips across her cheek. To touch her again filled me with familiar warmth, but it also brought new, intense heat that ignited every nerve ending in my body.

  I had changed so much since she last saw me. My hair had darkened, and I'd grown in every way. She had only known me as a tall, skinny kid who was obsessed with daredevil stunts and who was also awkwardly shy. We had been childhood best friends the moment I saved her from getting hit by a car when she had ridden her bike into the street. As a thank you, she gave me her old bicycle when her father got her a new one for her eighth birthday. I still had it.

  I sighed and scooped her up, cradling her to my chest. Over the years, I had come close to revealing myself to her, but at the last second I always changed my mind. She was safer not knowing me.

  Except for tonight.

  I inhaled deeply, taking those extra seconds to be close to her. She smelled like cinnamon and pastry dough, and her skin was warm beneath my touch.

  I wish I could come every night to make sure she got home safely, but Roman's training often spilled into the late evening. After what happened tonight, I needed to make sure I was here somehow. I was fortunate that I was able to come at all. It had been a week since I had last checked in on her, but after tonight, I would make sure it was more frequent.

  Her head resting against my chest, I strode out of the alley, eyeing the streets for any more of Victor’s men. They could easily attack her again. The crime boss who ruled over Coast City had given them a job to do, and I doubted my encounter with them would be enough to deter them. Maybe it was time for me to surface for good. I was more than ready to bring peace back to the city like my father had done, but Roman still held out hope that the justice system would prevail.

  We passed the diner, our reflections barely rippling in the dark window. So far we were the only ones out at this time of night. Had we been in Pigtown, the underbelly of Coast City, people would be all over, wandering the streets as if they had somewhere to be, but no one ever went anywhere. They only thought about it.

  I would go there sometimes, angered by how bad the city had become under Victor's control. Things had gotten even worse when Mayor Braxton was elected two years ago, a man Victor had a direct hand in getting elected. Ever since then, I had been working harder than ever to become as strong as possible. Not to the extreme Roman wanted, but I could never become that. My father had succeeded in saving the city without becoming a monster. I would do the same and prove Roman wrong.

  I turned down Emma's street, still keeping to the shadows as best I could. Her home was only six blocks from the diner. I liked this part of the city. It wasn't as congested, which meant I could occasionally see the stars, something I never got to see in Ironwood. Tonight they shined brightly.

  Emma stirred in my arms. I froze, afraid she might wake up. If she did, I would have to leave her, and I wasn't ready for that just yet. Just one more minute. I gave her a gentle squeeze and whispered, "Shhhh." Her whole body relaxed against me, making my muscles quiver.

  Her house stood at the end of the block, pressed up against several others. Because it was on the corner, it was much bigger than those around it. Emma had lived her whole life here. We used to meet at the park only a few streets away when I was able to sneak aboveground from my hidden home in Ironwood. All that ended, however, when Roman discovered me a few years later. My time above had to be closely monitored according to Roman, but those years with Emma had been the best of my life.

  I walked her up the stairs to the front door. This would be the tricky part. It would only work if her mother was home.

  I gently placed her in the entryway, her back against the front door. I searched her face, capturing her image in my mind. Her full lips the pink shade of a setting sun, her skin the color of golden honey. I would never be this close to her again.

  Regret squeezed my chest. If only things could’ve been different. Maybe if I was someone else. Someone who didn’t have to hide in the shadows.

  My eyes settled on the top of her cell phone poking out of her jacket pocket. I carefully slipped it out and searched the settings on her phone until I found her number. I committed it to memory. For emergencies only.

  When she stirred again, I reluctantly stepped back and rang the doorbell several times. I could hear it echoing inside followed by the sounds of light footsteps. A lamp illuminated a room on the second floor.

  My heart ached as I disappeared to the heavy darkness across the street. It felt cold here without Emma. I wished it didn't have to be this way.

  While Judge Lamrey answered the door and yelped in shock at seeing her daughter, I removed my cell phone from my pocket and dialed one of my two contacts.

  "Coast City police, is this an emergency?" a man's voice asked.

  "There are two unconscious men in an alley on 7th Street. Both are armed and dangerous. Please pick them up."

  "Who is this?" the operator asked.

  I hung up the phone. I'd made this exact call at least a dozen times before—always when I could get away from Roman. I'd leave it up to the justice system to finish off the criminals. That was the goal anyway.

  Across the street, Judge Lamrey had finally woken Emma. Emma swayed slightly as her mother ushered her into the house, glancing down the street nervously, before closing the door behind them.

  I leaned against the building feeling suddenly drained. It was not a feeling I had often. I could train for hours with Roman and never grow this weak, but being this close to Emma had disarmed me. It made me realize how much I would never have because of what I am and may become one day. My father's legacy carried on in my blood giving me special, inhuman abilities. And like him, I would use them for good.

  It wasn't long before sirens wailed down the street. Her mother must've called them shortly after Emma arrived. I was glad I never saw an ambulance, which meant Emma would recover quickly.

  Pushing off the neighbor's house where I'd been watching, I walked the opposite direction I came and headed toward the coast, specifically to the park Emma and I used to meet at as children. Seeing her again had brought back many fond memories, and I ached to see the place where so many of them had been made.

  I was sorely disappointed.

  The place was in serious disrepair. Only one swing remained intact on a rusted metal set. The slide that used to be attached to a wooden structure had fallen on its side. It was tagged in red spray paint, vulgar words no child should ever see. I crossed to where the teeter-totters used to be and kicked at the metal
posts. The long board was missing.

  What had happened here? This used to be one of the nicest parks in the whole city.

  I shook my head in disgust at how far Coast City had fallen, especially in the last ten years, which is when Victor really started to take control. Local officials had done a good job holding back crime for a long time after my father had died, but eventually Victor managed to buy or frighten many of the police force and politicians to follow him.

  But this was all about to change if I had my way. Soon.

  I walked to the edge of the park and picked a single blue geranium from a large bush. At least this hadn't changed.

  I jogged back to Emma's place. All was quiet and the lights were off. I crept up the steps and placed the flower at the door. I shouldn't be doing this. She might remember, but I couldn't stop myself. Too many memories played in my mind. When we were younger, I always gave Emma the flower when she was having a bad day. Back then they were frequent, as her parents were in the middle of a nasty divorce.

  Stepping off the stairs, I walked down the sidewalk away from her home, but barely made it a half a block when I froze, a cold chill snaking up my spine. I turned and peered into a darkened space between two houses, the source of my alarm.

  Yellowed-eyes flashed and a deep, throaty voice said, "She's a beautiful, young peach, isn't she? I wouldn't mind tasting her."

  2