by Eden Beck
After all, even a bad bitch has a soft side.
I set the rest of my things on my desk where I used to put them after I came home from school, and then that last year, training. That last year was so, so much training. I think PW is hard some mornings, but I forgot the early mornings and late nights down at the track for the months leading up. It took me over half a year to get into the shape that got me into Saint M. It sounds like a long time, but now it feels like a little blip … gone forever.
My life has changed so much since then.
Sawyer wanders in after me and sits on the bed. “So, this is where Avery Black grew up, huh?”
I smile. “Yeah.” I walk over and sit next to him.
He picks up one of my pillows. It’s in a unicorn pillowcase. He holds it up with raised eyebrows, and I laugh.
“I was little when I picked it out,” I say, snatching it back. I set it delicately behind another pillow, this one of a Pegasus. I don’t tell him I bought that particular pillow just weeks before I moved out.
He just grins at me and changes subjects. “So … when do you want to go looking for your parents’ cabin?”
I listen for a moment, waiting to hear an indication that Aunt Trish is still downstairs. It’s silent for a moment, but then I hear something clinking in the kitchen sink. Just because my aunt knows I’m a monster hunter doesn’t mean she needs to know all about it. If she ever finds out I’m trying to avenge my parent’s deaths by hunting the creature that killed them—she’d fall apart.
“Tomorrow night,” I say in a low voice. “After my aunt goes to sleep. You should rest tonight.”
“You should rest, too,” he says, bumping me with his shoulder.
I smile. “I told my aunt we might end up going up to a cabin to ski … but we have to find it first. It’s only a half lie, but it may take us a few nights before we find the cabin. Keep that in mind.”
It does take us a while to find it.
I find a map of the woods in the attic amongst my parents’ things, but nothing to indicate where the cabin might be. I mark off places on the map as we search them.
A week and a half later, we crunch through the snow, flashlights sweeping across the ground—and I find a trail.
“Sawyer!” I call. My voice booms over snowy ground.
“Avery?” He appears from between some trees. His face is tinged with blue and icicles have started to form on the edges of his hat. It’s been a long week and a half, so I’m more excited than I normally would be at the sight of a rough-looking trail in the middle of the woods.
I point to the trail. We follow it deeper into the woods, picking through both dead and evergreen trees, almost losing it at some points. The snow makes it difficult to follow, but soon we reach a small clearing with a little cabin similar to Professor Helsing’s in the center.
“This is it,” I whisper, approaching quickly. “It has to be.” The snow crunches underfoot. I rush up and jiggle the front door, but of course it’s locked. I look around for a window.
“Let me try,” Sawyer says, and I move aside. He kneels down and pulls some paperclips out of his pocket, straightening them out.
“Why do you have paperclips?” I ask.
“I just like them.” Click. The door pops open.
I shoot him a disapproving glare. “Remind me to get a deadbolt when we get back.”
I sweep my flashlight across the room as I step in, getting an impression of wooden floors, a couch, a rug. Without thinking, I reach for a light switch, find one, and flick it on.
The lights come on.
I share a shocked glance with Sawyer and we both turn off our flashlights. “Why does this place still have electricity?” he asks as we walk inside.
“Aunt Trish must know about it and keep it up.”
“Why wouldn’t she tell you about it?”
“She didn’t want me to go the same way as my parents.” I look around the now-illuminated space. It reminds me of a cozier version of Professor Helsing’s cabin. There’s a workbench and a desk right next to each other on the far wall, with an array of weapons hanging above them. There’s a couch sitting in front of an old TV—where my dad used to watch those Christmas movies Helsing was going on about, I guess.
The whole place looks like it hasn’t been touched for years, but there’s no dust or decay. I feel a sad pang in my chest. My aunt must have known about this place alright, and kept it clean all these years … but why? It doesn’t look like she’s ever used it, and up until Helsing told me about it, I’d never so much as heard the cabin mentioned.
Next to the desk there’s a bookshelf full of old books, but a few of them don’t have titles on the spine. Somehow, I’m drawn to those. I walk to them and pluck one off the shelf.
I hear Sawyer shuffling around and I glance over my shoulder. He’s found a space heater and plugged it in.
Thank god. It’s freezing in here. Barely any better than the icy outdoors.
He looks up at me. “What have you got?”
“Don’t know.” I open the book cover to the first page. This journal belongs to Riley Black. My heart drops. “A journal,” I whisper. I sit down heavily on the desk’s chair and stare at the inscription again and again.
All these years, all my questions … they could have been answered if my aunt had just told me about the cabin. I know she did what she did to protect me, but that doesn’t keep the bitterness from bringing hot, angry tears to the back of my eyes.
For a moment, Sawyer stands there awkwardly. “Um … I’ll go look in the other rooms. Is that okay?”
I nod wordlessly and he moves into the kitchen.
I don’t know how long I sit thumbing through the pages of the journal, pulling out others as I go. There’s stories of my mother fighting monsters, some of her everyday thoughts, a few entries on completely mundane things. In her most recent journal, I find an entry about my birth.
She’s so beautiful, my baby girl. We’ve named her Avery. I never knew I could love anything this much.
Aunt Trish told me when I was young that she’d been sent a bunch of my parents’ things when they died. I just assumed the things in the attic were what she meant, but I realize that this journal must have been among them, because it talks about their last hunt.
I don’t really want to continue this lifestyle, it just isn’t sustainable. We agreed to that when we had Avery. It’s too dangerous, but we have to finish this last hunt. I thought of Helsing, but Samson thinks we’re the only ones who can do it, and I fear he’s right.
Helsing. My mother thought Helsing should hunt the monster, but my father disagreed. I wonder if Helsing ever knew.
I turn the page.
Something’s wrong. It’s time to call Helsing, whether or not Samson likes it. I think we’re being followed. I think we’re being watched. Samson and I are on edge.
The next page is blank. And the next. And the rest. That was the last thing she wrote. I sit there, staring at the empty pages, feeling more tears well up in my eyes.
“Avery?” Sawyer reappears from the kitchen and kneels in front of me. He gently pulls the journal from my grasp and lays it on the desk. His hands come to cup my face, his thumbs wiping the tears from my cheeks. “Avery. Hey.”
Without thinking, I lean into him. I just want some comfort. I slide out of my chair and onto the floor beside where he’s crouched. He wraps his arms around me, snaking one hand into my hair, cradling me. I let him hold me for a long time before I pull back to look up into his eyes. He’s looking at me with such concern, such caring, that I …
I don’t know what comes over me. Or at least, I’d like to pretend I don’t. I don’t want to admit that I’ve been longing for him all year, that I’ve been wondering what his lips would feel like against mine. I tip my face up and kiss him.
It’s like a dam breaking. As soon as our lips touch I feel a fervor wash through me, and I reach up to stroke his face, his hair, and his broad shoulders. His hands move
to my waist, touching, feeling, running down to my thighs. He moves them carefully, testing the waters until one of his hands drifts up and his fingers brush against my breast.
It’s like he’s set me on fire. I press against him. Yes, I say in my head. Yes, do it, touch me.
Sawyer takes the hint, and I lean away from him to grab at the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up over his head. He throws it behind him and reaches for mine. His hands go to my breasts, feeling them through my bra, gently caressing my nipples as I reach back to unhook it. It falls away and then he’s touching my bare skin.
Reverently, he leans down to put his mouth around one, and I close my eyes in ecstasy.
This has been a long time coming.
Sawyer isn’t my first, but my body responds to him like he is. Some time later, we sit there on the floor, staring at each other and panting. He reaches for me and pulls me into his arms.
“Avery,” he whispers, planting kisses on my neck.
“That felt so good,” I tell him, leaning my head on his shoulder.
“Amazing,” he mumbles against my hair.
I close my eyes and let myself sink into the comfort of his arms, into the warmth of his naked body, and vow that I won’t be doing this again.
Chapter Eighteen
I open my eyes and sit straight up, looking around in a panic. It takes a second for me to remember where I am—my parents’ cabin. The lights are still on, and it’s still dark outside, but I have no idea what time it is. It could be very late at night, or very, very early in the morning. I’m not sure.
Sawyer’s arm is slung across my bare thighs. I gently push him off and get up, gathering up my scattered clothes and putting them back on. I place his things in a pile near him and then shake him gently.
“Sawyer. Sawyer, wake up.”
His eyes flutter open, and he looks at me with a sweet smile, which falters when he sees that I’m already fully dressed. “What time is it?”
“I don’t know. It’s still dark outside, though, so we should have some time. Let’s look around a little more before we head back.”
I turn away to head into the kitchen while Sawyer dresses. There’s nothing but non-perishable food in the cupboards, but I find a locked cabinet in the pantry that contains small jars of herbs that I’ve learned about in survival class; things like dragon’s blood, mandrake leaves, and something called ‘devils breath’ that I’ll have to look into later. I grab as many as I can shove into my backpack. They might come in handy someday.
Sawyer’s dressed when I come back into the room. I walk past him toward the weapons hanging on the wall and grab two black daggers with red engraving on the hilts. These must have been my mother’s.
I turn them over, weighing them in my hands, then glance back up at the wall. There’s a part of me that wants to use the daggers as some sort of legacy—but I’ve always been partial to longer weapons.
A katana on the wall draws my eye especially, but there’s no way I can carry that all the way back through the snow along with everything else.
“Avery,” Sawyer says quietly, from behind.
I grab his backpack beside the desk and start shoving more things inside—journals, trinkets, more jars of unmarked herbs.
“Avery. Do you want to talk about what happened?”
I feel a pulse between my legs as he says it, but I bite my lip. I don’t want to talk about it.
I’ve thought about this, a lot … and it always comes down to the same thing.
“I don’t want to be a couple,” I say, tentatively. “I really need to focus on my grades.” I glance back at him to gauge his reaction.
He nods and puts his hands in his pockets. “I understand. So, we’re not a couple.”
“And this … won’t happen again.”
He nods again, his eyes on the floor. “So … you didn’t like it?”
I purse my lips. What is it with boys? I can’t lie to him.
“I did like it. I … really liked it. But that has to be the end of it.” For now, at least, I add in my head. I sling the backpack over my shoulder. “Let’s go. If we leave now, we should get back before the sun rises.”
We unplug the space heater and turn off the lights. I lock the door behind us. We walk away from the darkened cabin, and I try not to look back.
We’re well on our way home, just another hour or so out, when I hear a noise among the trees. I swing my flashlight around to look and see a brief flash reflected back, and movement.
“Sawyer,” I say, grabbing his arm. He turns his flashlight too.
“I saw it,” he says tensely.
“It looked like metal. It can’t be an ordinary animal.” I feel my instincts kicking in. I can sense that there’s something here, though it’s not the same as when I met the al.
How long has this thing been following us? I could kick myself. I knew getting involved with Sawyer, or any of the other boys, would end up with me being distracted. And here I am, distracted and being hunted already.
There’s another noise behind us. This time when I swing my flashlight around, I see it padding toward us, tongue lolling out. It looks like a dog—a Dachshund, I’d have to guess—with a long head shaped somewhat like an axe. Its tail is wagging happily as it stops and cocks its head at us.
“Oh my God,” I say, as recognition from one of my textbooks dawns on me. “It’s an axehandle hound.”
Sawyer laughs and looks at it more closely. “I’ve never seen one. He’s cute!”
“Hey, buddy,” I say brightly, crouching down. The axehandle hound takes a step toward me, and I melt into his oversized brown eyes. “Are you a good boy?”
His tail wags.
Sawyer kneels too, reaching out, but the axehandle hound shrinks from him. He stands back up, obviously offended. “C’mon. Let’s head back.”
Unduly sad that I won’t get to pet him, I stand up. “Okay.” We start heading back, but still the hound follows. I glance over my shoulder. He’s trotting behind me, watching me, ears perked up. I stop. The hound stops.
“Is he following you?” Sawyer asks.
I make a few subtle movements and the whole time, the hounds eyes stay trained on me.
“If he follows all the way to Aunt Trish’s, I’m keeping him,” I say.
The sun begins to rise, and we make it back to Aunt Trish’s house. Sure enough, the hound follows me the whole way. I feed it some leftovers from last night’s dinner.
“I think I’ll call you Cleaver,” I say. He just wags his tail and keeps eating.
Saint M students and monster hunters are given badges to show at airports to allow them to bring normally banned items onto planes. This makes it easy to fly with your weapons.
Or your axehandle hound.
My first day back at school, I smuggle him up to my room. I’d hoped to get him up and hidden before Erin arrived, but our connected flight gets delayed and Erin is already in the dorm room when I arrive.
“Hey!” she says as I rush in and set my backpack down. “Did you have a good—”
Her question ends in a strangled cry as Cleaver springs out of the bag and rushes to her, licking whatever he can reach.
“Avery!” she says, leaning down to pet him. “Avery, you’re not supposed to have any pets here.”
“I know, but look at him,” I say happily. Cleaver takes the opportunity to roll over onto his back so Erin can scratch his belly. “I found him near my parents’ cabin.”
“How did that go?” she asks, now scratching behind Cleaver’s ears.
Images of Sawyer’s head between my legs flash into my mind. “I’ll tell you later. Will you watch Cleaver for me while I head down to the dining hall to grab some food?”
“Sure.” She grins down at him. “I really hope we don’t get in trouble. You’re a good boy,” she adds to Cleaver as I leave.
In the entrance hall, there are a group of students huddled around the scoreboard. In the middle of them all I see Piers, Owen, and
Bennett. I grin as I approach them. I’m actually excited to see them. I feel like we’ve become closer now that we’ve put everything behind us.
“Hi, guys!” I call out, and they turn to look at me.
My happiness is not reflected on their faces. They’re all stone-faced.
I stop short, and Piers points at the board. It’s the grades and points from last semester. Piers, Owen, and Bennett—and Sawyer, too—are still hovering near the bottom. But somehow, I’ve jumped up to the middle of the class.
I frown. Even working as hard as I have been, I shouldn’t be that high up on the list. I should be happy, ecstatic even—I’m no longer in danger of being cut from the program. But I can’t be happy, not when all three of the boys are looking at me like I’m the devil incarnate.
Piers closes the distance between us and gives my shoulder a hard shove. I stumble back.
“You did something,” he growls. “You skewed it. You used something to get ahead.”
“I didn’t!” I cry as Owen and Bennett look on menacingly. “I swear, I—”
“Miss Black!” Professor Waldman’s voice cuts over us. She comes up next to me and puts an arm around my shoulders, seemingly oblivious to what’s happening. “I see you’ve noticed your grades. That extra work you put in really paid off—your parents would be proud.” She winks at me, gives me a squeeze, and saunters off. My heart sinks.
The vial of Piers’ blood—that’s what she means. I’d forgotten about it.
I turn back to the boys. They’re glaring daggers at me, but there’s nothing they can do in this crowd, not really. Piers turns away and signals to them. They walk off, leaving me here, lonely amongst the throng of students.
All that work, all those weeks mending the gap between us—and it’s a new gap that wedges up apart further than we were before.
Sawyer was right.
It’s about to start up all over again.
Our creature handling teacher told us before break that we’d be getting a big project this semester, but didn’t give any specifics. I’m nervous as we head down to the Menagerie for our first class since Christmas break. I don’t want to have to pair up with Piers, Owen, or Bennett—or Sawyer, for that matter—as it may make things awkward.
