Where Monsters Hide: An Academy Bully Romance (The Monster Within Book 1)

by Eden Beck

  She smiles back weakly, and Sawyer laughs. My phone beeps in my pocket and I take it out.

  “Ah, shit—it’s time for me to head down to meet Piers.” I stand up and grab my books.

  “We’ll talk more about it later,” Sawyer says. He grabs me around the waist and squeezes me as I pass by him. He’s got this goofy smile on his face, but I can feel his own heartbeat quicken along with mine. This is dangerous territory we’ve waded into. He’s become so much more physical with me, and I don’t want it to stop—God, how much I’d hate if it stopped—but I also can’t afford something romantic distracting me.

  But the momentary warmth of his body against mine …

  I smile at him and Erin as I leave the room, glad of the distraction. “See you guys later.” I shut the door and head off to meet Piers, making a mental note to call Aunt Trish and tell her I’m bringing home a boy.

  That news might help soften the blow sure to come with the rest of what I have to tell her.

  Piers is already in the library when I arrive.

  I haven’t spent much time in Saint M’s library. It’s gorgeous and expansive, with ornate columns and gleaming bookshelves filled with books both old and new. There are reading nooks with stately-looking settees, long tables with high-backed chairs, and even a computer lab tucked away in the back corner. Private study rooms line one side of the library. They each have a window with curtains that can be drawn for privacy when occupied.

  Piers beckons me from inside one of the study rooms. I expected him to put up some kind of fight for having to work with me, but he just looks tired. From the look of things, he’s been here ever since class let out.

  He’s already pulled half the library off the shelves and stacked it up on the tables inside. I’m barely able to wedge myself through the door to get in, it’s so packed.

  “I didn’t take you for a heavy reader,” I say, after letting out my gut I had to suck in to squeeze inside. I’d thought that after all these weeks training in PW, there wouldn’t be anything left to suck in … but such is life. Love handles bow to no man, or monster.

  Piers glances at one of the stacks of books. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he says. “Like, for one, how I don’t plan on half-assing this project.”

  The tone of his voice makes me look at him sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing,” he says, but then adds, “Only that you’re late. I’ve come up with a list of monsters, if all the good ones haven’t already been taken.”

  I throw my backpack in the corner with a small explosion of dust. I bat the dust away, coughing, and throw myself into a seat.

  “Hold your horses, prettyboy. I don’t think anyone else has even started. We’ve got plenty of time to figure this out.” I grab the book closest to me and open to a random spot. “See? Look at this. I bet you’ve never heard of a …” I trail off and squint my eyes at the creature featured on the page. It looks something like a monkey, but it’s hanging upside-down like a bat. “This thing. I can’t read what it’s called, but it looks weird.”

  “That’s because you have the book upside down,” Piers says, cooly. He reaches over and turns the book over in my hands. It’s still written in Romanian, but at least I can make out what the creature’s called.

  “Agropelter,” I say, quietly, but Piers is already shaking his head.

  “It’s not on the approved list,” he says. He picks up another notebook and slams it down on the desk in front of me. “Unless you weren’t paying attention,” and here he eyes me again, “We have to pick from here. The agropelter isn’t on it.”

  I snatch the paper away and give it a quick glance. He’s right. I wasn’t paying any attention when Helsing gave us this little detail, but I’m not about to admit it.

  Without all the books, this study room would be tidy, but a little bare. There’s one rectangular table pushed up against the wall with two rickety chairs and a computer that looks like it was installed in the 80s. One of those chairs groans under my weight, threatening to collapse at any wrong movement. The only thing adorning the beige walls is a faded poster depicting a kitten reading a book. I bet Erin would like that.

  Piers takes looks down at his notebook as he takes it back and I study his face. Unlike Sawyer, Piers never allows his dark hair to leave a stubble shadow. His skin is smooth and perfect, like porcelain.

  It’s been a while since I looked at Piers—really, looked at him.

  For the last few months Piers has been nothing but a bully to me. Now, here, in the library, I have to force myself to look away. He’s really quite good-looking when he isn’t putting tar in my sneakers or smacking me in the face with squirrel dung.

  “So,” I say, my voice dragging out as I flip through several more pages, “how does it feel to be on the losing end of our little bet?”

  Piers makes a sound like a growl in the back of his throat. “Just focus on the project, Black. I’m not here to make friends.”

  I snort. “No, you’re not.”

  He’s supposed to mutter about how I’m an idiot and ignore me or something, but he stops what he’s doing and lays his book out on the table before him.

  “Alright, Avery, let’s have it out,” he says.

  I glance over my shoulder. Through the window, I can see the librarian at her desk near the front. Several students are outside, perusing the aisles or slumped against bookshelves turning the pages of more leather-bound books.

  I drop my voice down a bit, but that doesn’t make my words sound any less harsh.

  “What am I supposed to say?” I ask. “You and Bennett and Owen have been harassing me for weeks. I know it’s supposed to be my fault you’re at the bottom of the list, but come on.”

  “Come on, what?” Piers asks, his whisper just as harsh. “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to get into this school? I was doing fine until you came out of nowhere and wrecked everything.” He throws himself back in his seat and folds his arms across his chest. “You shouldn’t have even been allowed to compete. You didn’t even take the written test.”

  “And yet I still got in,” I say.

  Now Piers does roll his eyes. He grabs the book and makes a big show of going back to reading. “Yeah, Black, no need to remind me.”

  I open my mouth to say something scathing, but I have to stop. There’s no excuse for how he and the others have treated me these past weeks, but he does kind of have a point. If I were in his position … I’d probably hate me too.

  This new realization puts me in a bad mood, and I start turning the pages of my own book with more ferocity. I don’t want to empathize with my bully, no matter how much I think I understand why he’s doing it.

  I’m so engrossed in my violent page-turning, that I almost forget I’m not alone.

  “Here, how about this?”

  I look up, startled by Piers’ voice. He leans over an and turns a couple of pages in the book I’m holding. I get a whiff of his cologne—something rich and oaky—before he eventually finds what he was looking for and leans back. He’s landed on a page that has a photo of a brilliantly white horse standing by a foggy riverbank.

  “The bækhest,” he says, pointing at it. “We could do that.”

  I skim the page. It’s a monster that lives near rivers, takes the shape of a horse, and then plunges unsuspecting riders into the river to drown them. I make a mental note not to stand too close to any body of water ever again.

  “It’s only native to Sweden,” I say, then glance up. “Do you know any Swedish?”

  I’ve never come across a baekhest before, and I see why. There’s a note at the bottom of the page that most information about the monster is still written in the tongue of its native country.

  He shrugs. “No. But how long would it take to learn?”

  I guffaw, only for the back end of my laugh to come out strangled when I realize he’s serious.

  “I don’t know,” I say, peering at the creature agai
n. “A lot longer than it’s going to take to do this project.”

  Piers leans further back in his chair, using his feet to push himself up onto just the back two legs. He purses his lips together with a smug expression and lets out a low whistle.

  “Wow,” he says, “Are you telling me I might actually be better at something than Avery Black?”

  “Oh shut up,” I say. I reach over and ever so gently tap him on the shoulder.

  His chair tip further back and slips out from beneath him, leaving Piers Dagher sprawled out on the floor.

  I peer over him and grin wickedly. “So, what was it you were saying again?”

  Piers, it turns out, is a wizard at learning languages.

  By the time we’ve finished our research for the day, he’s already able to recite a little conversational Swedish for the librarian, who it turns out, he knows pretty well.

  We gather up the few books we were able to find with information on our monster and leave the librarian behind a guilt-inducing mountain of the rest and head out before we can hear her complain.

  “What was that all about?” I ask, jutting my thumb back in the direction of the librarian.

  He just brushes his hair out of his eyes and adjusts the lapels of the jacket he’s wearing. “Where do you think I spent most of my time when my father visited growing up? I wasn’t exactly allowed to run around the menagerie. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to tote me around.”

  My heartbeat quickens. This is it. My chance to ask about his father.

  I have to hesitate, however. This is clearly a sore subject for him, and so far we’ve been getting along really well … at least as well as a bully and the girl he’s been bullying can be expected.

  I don’t want to ruin that.

  “Hey, uh, what are you doing for Christmas break?” I ask.

  Piers shrugs. “Going home.” His face, already stoic, droops a little.

  I pause in the hallway, and he stops too. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he says irritably, running his fingers through his dark hair again. “It’s just—can I be candid with you?”

  He turns and looks at me so intensely, I feel something spark inside. Something lower, deceptively close to my crotch, tightens too. It’s those eyes. He could swallow me whole with just those eyes.

  “Of course,” I say, trying to lean casually against the wall to my side. My voice comes out deeper and a little raspy—betraying the arousal I’m trying to keep in check. I clear my throat and try to remember all the times Piers smacked me in the face with a tree branch, and that seems to do the trick.

  The moment passes, and Piers is none the wiser.

  He clenches one of his fists at his side until the knuckles turn white, and then he lets it go.

  “My father didn’t want me to get in to Saint M,” he says. “He doesn’t think I’m good enough. Now that I’m here he’s been riding my ass like I’m a French whore. If that score doesn’t change, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  His eyes aren’t trained on me anymore. They’ve lifted to stare at the scoreboard hanging above us. I hadn’t even noticed we’d gotten all the way to the great hall. I was too busy trying not to lose myself in Price’s moody glance.

  “You’ve been doing really well, though,” I say, trying to console him. He looks so upset. He’s scowling, sure, but he’s also fidgeting; something I’ve never seen him do before. He blinks back at me, and I think I spot something shining in the inner corner of his eye. “I mean, I’ve seen you in PW, you’re great,” I add, awkwardly punching his arm. I don’t mention that by seen, I mean admired his abs. I also don’t mention that I think I just bruised my knuckles with that ‘playful’ punch. What’s he made of, marble?

  Piers grunts. “I don’t know,” he mumbles. “I’m trying really hard. I really am.” He leans against the wall beside me and closes his eyes.

  I take a step closer to him. I wonder if he ever talks to Owen and Bennett about this. He can’t, can he? Not if he’s so eager to spill it to me of all people. He’s like a dam filled to burst. If he doesn’t tell someone soon, he’s gonna explode.

  “The last time I saw him, he was so angry. He said he’d bust my ass if I was the one dropped at the end of the year.” He presses his hand to his face. “That was back during the trials.”

  It’s my turn to glance back up at the scoreboard above us.

  The scores on the board have shifted some now that grades are getting put in, but it hasn’t changed much. The gap between us and the rest of the class is closing, but there’s still no way to tell who’s going to end up getting cut. All I know is I don’t want it to be me. It can’t be me.

  It’s this that makes me bite the swell of sympathy on my tongue and twists my words to get the answers I seek.

  “Have you spoken to him since then?” I ask quietly.

  “Yeah, on the phone.”

  “So he’s not at school that often?” I grimace at my thinly veiled attempt to gather information from him. I can do better, but I guess there’s a reason Erin’s at the top of Helsing’s survival class, and not me.

  Piers laughs bitterly and drops his hand to his side. “No, he’s here a lot. I’m just not that high on his list of priorities. He’d rather yell at me from home than talk to me face-to-face.”

  My parents are dead. Everyone knows it. I know it. But I wonder what’s worse; to have no parents at all, or a father like Mason Dagher.

  “He’s gonna be here tomorrow,” Piers continues darkly. “He won’t see me then, either. He’ll just talk to the headmaster, have his fancy lunch, and leave.”

  My heart skips a beat. This is the information I wanted, but I don’t know if I’m comfortable with hearing it like this. Tentatively, I step closer, reach out, and gently touch Piers’ shoulder. He glances at it but otherwise doesn’t react.

  “Hey. Piers. I don’t know how you feel, let’s be honest. But it sucks. And I’m sorry.” I pat him again. “If you were my son, I’d be proud … even if you do beat up girls.”

  Piers chokes out a laugh and straightens up. That sorry look is gone, replaced by his usual swagger. He punches me back, and it’s not entirely friendly. I’m going to have a bruise on that arm too later.

  My stomach growls loudly, interrupting us.

  Face hidden, I hear Piers laugh.

  He straightens up again and turns away from me. “Jesus, Black. Let’s get you some goddamn food.”

  I smile and follow him to the dining hall.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The next day, I take advantage of the information I got from Piers and skip PW.

  Erin, as nervous as it makes her, promises to tell Professor Davies that I had to take a trip to the infirmary. I cook up a believable story involving the cafeteria chicken, but she’s still shaking when she leaves the dorm room; terrified of the lie she might be called on to convey.

  That girl. I really don’t know why she even decided to come here in the first place.

  This is not the place to come to prove something to yourself. This is the place you come to learn how to hunt monsters. Or, more accurately … how to stay alive while hunting monsters.

  After all, anyone can hunt a manticore, but only a few have lived to tell the tale.

  I have to find Piers’ father and ask him what happened to my parents. There’s no guarantee I’ll get another opportunity like this. If he’s going to be here today, it might as well be now.

  I don’t know where, exactly, Mason Dagher would spend his time at Saint M, but I figure the headmaster’s office is a good place to start.

  It’s strange being in the hallways when everyone else is in class. I can hear muffled voices from classrooms as I pass by. How do I even start this conversation? What do I even say?

  It’s not like I can just go walking up to one of the foremost monster hunters of this age and accuse him of … of what, exactly?

  I don’t even know.

  Everything about this world is only just
beginning to come into focus. Ever since I got here, I’ve started to get a better idea of what this monster hunting world really is. It’s big. Enormous. And dangerous. If the scarred and jaded teachers like Professors Helsing and Waldman are any indicator, this life is not for the feint of heart.

  And yet, unlike them, when I spot Mason Dagher coming out of the headmaster’s office when I turn the corner, he appears unscathed by the brutality of this profession.

  Maybe all his scars are hidden, or maybe, he somehow doesn’t have any at all.

  Now that would be a weird question to ask Piers.

  I stop short as soon as I see him. I didn’t want to run into him. It’s too late to hide, however, as the headmaster steps out after him and immediately spots me, too. He turns from Piers’ father to nod my way.

  “Miss Black. Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

  I step out from around the corner.

  “Well … sir …” I’ve never spoken to the headmaster before. I’m amazed he even knows my name—but then again, I do look a lot like my mother. At least, that’s what I’ve been told.

  I try not to stare, but I can’t help seeing the similarities between Mason and his son, Piers. They have the same eyes, the same sharp jaw. Mason looks at me now with a grimace, and I know he recognizes me by the look in his eyes as he surveys me.

  “I actually wanted to ask Mr. Dagher a few questions,” I say, my words spilling out.

  Headmaster Novac raises his eyebrows.

  “What would a student want to ask me?” Mason Dagher has the same tone that Piers does when he wants to act all high-and-mighty. He’s playing dumb, too. He knows who I am.

  A phone rings in the office and the headmaster sighs. “Well, I must go, Mason. Young lady, if you’re too sick to go to class, you really should head to the infirmary,” he adds to me with a wink.

  My stomach seizes up, sure I’ve been figured out. He doesn’t act on it though, just gives me another pointed look and slams the door shut behind him.

  I’d relax, but I’m more on edge here alone with Mason.