The 7 Bad Habits of Slightly Troubled Monsters

by Devin Harnois

  “The hall monitor is following him around now. We could talk to the principal, talk to your parents—”

  “Hide behind them for the rest of high school?” he snapped. Now his eyes burned green, two bright sparks in the rainy night. “I know you don’t like fighting, but that’s what Conner understands. Power, dominance.”

  Aiden’s stomach twisted. “You’re going to enjoy beating him up, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” Dylan glared, but his expression was a little off, a hint that he was disturbed by his enjoyment.

  That was something at least. “You’re going to get in trouble. The police are already watching you. How is this going to look?”

  “I don’t care.”

  Aiden hated this side of his friend. “Dylan, please. You’re better than this.”

  The glow in Dylan’s eyes faded.

  “Come to kiss your boyfriend good luck?”

  Aiden’s heart jumped and beat double time. He turned to see Conner walking casually down into the pit, the other werewolves following him.

  “You should go, Aiden,” Dylan said.

  So much for the hope that he might get through to him. Aiden wanted to stay, to keep trying to talk Dylan out of this fight, but now that Conner was here he didn’t think there was any way to make Dylan stop. Energy practically crackled in the air between Dylan and Conner. It was as bad as it had ever been at school. Maybe worse.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Aiden said as he backed toward Dylan, not taking his eyes off Conner.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  Scales and heat now clashed with fur and cool air. Aiden’s chest kept getting tighter, and he moved until he was behind Dylan. Any second they’d start fighting.

  “Your boys can go back up the hill,” Dylan said. “They’re not supposed to get involved, remember?”

  “And you’re not supposed to use magic.” Conner’s eyes glowed yellow. All of the werewolves’ eyes did.

  “I know.”

  Despite the words, all Aiden could imagine was Dylan throwing a huge fireball at Conner, how the alpha werewolf would scream. The scar on Aiden’s chest ached, and he sucked in little breaths, trying to get enough air. He couldn’t take it anymore. Aiden turned and ran.

  He prayed the werewolves wouldn’t chase him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Dylan listened to Aiden’s feet crunching over the gravel. I’m sorry.

  Conner laughed, throwing his head back like he was about to howl at the moon. “Your boyfriend’s got no balls.”

  Dylan resisted the urge to lunge at him. “Your pack. Make them back off.”

  “Scared you can’t take us all on? Didn’t you brag you could do that?” Conner sneered.

  Dylan smiled. “I want them all conscious to see this.” They wouldn’t be the only audience. A few other kids hovered around the edge of the gravel pit, afraid to come closer but wanting to see the fight. There were probably more behind Dylan. Should’ve sold tickets.

  Conner growled and flicked a hand. The other werewolves backed away. “No magic,” Conner repeated.

  “No magic,” Dylan agreed. The hot ball of anger inside him shifted to anticipation, and he widened his stance just a bit.

  “Kick his ass!” the beta shouted.

  Conner rushed at him, and although Dylan had to keep a tight hold on his magic, the sensation that washed over him felt like freedom. Conner swung and Dylan dodged to the left. He punched Conner in the stomach, then darted out of the way.

  With one arm pressed against his stomach, Conner glared. “Lucky hit.”

  Draw this out? Make it a game? Or make it clear to Conner and everyone watching that no one stood a chance against him? Dylan thought of the months this had dragged on, of the look on Aiden’s face every time Conner came over. The look on Hanna’s face. The smell of their fear.

  Dylan lunged, catching Conner’s fist when he brought it up. With his free hand, he punched Conner in the face. Conner staggered and Dylan held him by the captured fist. He hit Conner again, a sweet, dark feeling filling him.

  It wasn’t as good as burning, but it was getting close.

  Blood dribbled from Conner’s nose. Eyes unfocused, he tried to pull away.

  One of the werewolves shouted, “Come on, Conner!”

  Conner swung with his left. Dylan caught that hand too. They stared at each other, inches away.

  “Fuck you,” Conner growled.

  He tried bring his knee up, but Dylan blocked that as well. He shoved Conner away, and as the alpha stumbled, Dylan hit him in the ribs. He felt something crack and Conner cried out.

  Every time Conner made threats. Every time he picked on Hanna or sent his lackeys to do the job. Every time Dylan had to hold back for Aiden’s sake, anger had stuffed down to grow in the darkness of his heart.

  Dylan punched Conner’s face again— left, right— and Conner fell. He managed to catch himself on his hands and knees. Dylan kicked him in the head and the older boy collapsed on his side. Blood tricked from Conner’s mouth and both nostrils. Dylan used a foot to push him onto his back and dropped down to straddle him.

  Fire coiled inside Dylan, eager to be let out. It would be so easy to let it have its way. No one would have to worry about Conner ever again. Dylan took a long, slow breath. No. He tightened his mental grip even as he brought his fist down on Conner’s cheek.

  “Never bother Aiden again.” Punch. “Never bother Hanna again.” Punch. “Never even look at them.” Punch. “Do you hear me?” Punch. He said it again, shouting, “Do you hear me?”

  Conner made no response. Dylan noticed his eyes were closed, body limp. Bruises darkened his face. Dylan stood and took a few steps toward the pack. Their eyes were no longer yellow and they stank of fear. One of them flinched, and as he glared, all of them dropped their gazes.

  “This. Is. Over.”

  Dylan turned his back on them and walked out of the pit.

  * * *

  Aiden made it halfway home before he had to take a break. He leaned his bike against a tree and panted. Had they started fighting? Would Dylan lose control and burn Conner? Even if Aiden sometimes had fleeting thoughts that Conner deserved a punch in the face, he didn’t think violence would make anything better. And he didn’t want the werewolf to get seriously hurt, or…

  Dylan wouldn’t kill him, would he? A sick chill rolled through Aiden. As angry as Dylan was, all it would take was a little slip for him to do a lot worse to Conner than he’d done to Aiden the night of the incident.

  If Dylan killed someone, his punishment would be much worse than it would have been for letting Uncle out. And Mr. Johnson couldn’t cover it up.

  Aiden grabbed his bike and hurried down the sidewalk. He had to get someone to go down there and stop the fight. His parents? No, they wouldn’t be able to do anything. Dylan’s mom would be able to stop him. She was strong enough to take on Dylan if words weren’t enough.

  Aiden reached his house and set his bike against the garage. Pulling out his phone, he searched through his short list of contacts until he found Dylan’s house number. As it rang, he got more nervous. What if he was too late? What if Conner was dead? What if the rest of the pack had gone after Dylan and all of them were lying burned on the ground?

  “Hi, Aiden,” Dylan’s mom said. “Dylan left as soon—”

  “He’s getting in a fight. He challenged Conner to a fight at the gravel pit, and they’re there right now. You have to stop them.”

  “Oh no. I’m leaving right now.” The background noise shifted like she was moving. “I’ll have his dad stay here in case he comes back to the house.” She partly covered the phone and shouted for Dylan’s dad, and they had a short conversation before she got back on.

  “Are you with them?” she asked.

  “No. I… I ran home.” Shame made his face hot.

  “Good. Stay safe. We’ll take care of this. Bye.” She hung up.

  Aiden stared at the phone for a moment. Here he was again,
calling an adult to stop Dylan from doing something stupid and dangerous. Despite the promise he’d made months ago, Dylan hadn’t changed much at all.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  The BMW stopped in the middle of the road. “Get in the car!” Mom shouted.

  He opened his mouth to argue but couldn’t find the words. He walked around the front and slid in on the passenger side.

  “There’s blood on your face,” she said, an edge to her normally calm tone.

  Dylan wiped at his cheek. Something wet and sticky smeared across it.

  “And on your hands.” She turned back to the road and started driving.

  Dylan grunted, dropping his bloody hands in his lap. He felt great. He felt terrible. Dark, and angry, and empty, and free.

  “I heard you were going to get in a fight with Conner. Obviously it’s over.” She turned to head back to the house. “How badly hurt is he?” She got frustrated with him a lot, but she was rarely angry. This time she was angry at him.

  “I knocked him out. Maybe broke a rib. And his nose.” He stared out the window, thinking about how good it had felt. Guilt crept through his insides. It shouldn’t feel this good to hurt people, but Conner had it coming. Dylan didn’t regret it.

  Mom made a low sound in her throat. “Did you leave him there, then?”

  “His friends were there. They’ll take care of him, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “Well, that’s something.”

  A few minutes later, they pulled up to the house. Dylan got out as soon as the car stopped, and she was right behind him.

  Dad opened the door. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  Dylan tried to walk past him. Dad blocked the doorway. “No,” he said. “You’re not going to stomp up to your room. You’re going to sit, and we’re going to talk about this.”

  “Fine.”

  Dad moved out of the way and Dylan went to the sitting room. He dropped into a chair, arms crossed.

  “What were you thinking?” Mom asked. “The police have questioned you, the wardens have questioned you, and now you knock out a friend of the first person to go missing? Do you have any idea how bad this looks?”

  “I don’t care.” He’d held back too long and things had only gotten worse. Now at least he’d done something about it.

  “That’s the problem, Dylan,” Dad said, glaring down at him. “You don’t care, not even about yourself. You’re risking your future.”

  “I don’t care,” he repeated.

  Dad sighed and looked between him and Mom. “So he knocked this boy out?”

  “And possibly broke his ribs and nose, or so Dylan said.”

  “That would explain the blood,” Dad muttered. “You didn’t burn him, did you?”

  “No. I promised I wouldn’t. It was a fair fight.” Dylan fought a smirk. “No magic at least.”

  “Well, that’s something.”

  “You’re getting more and more out of control.” The edge had left Mom’s voice, and she was back to her concerned tone. “I thought you would have learned something after burning Aiden—”

  “Leave him out of this!” Anger and guilt tangled up inside him. Aiden had told him not to go through with it, had almost begged him.

  “No, I won’t,” she went on in that infuriatingly calm voice. “It all goes back to the same thing. You need to learn to control your anger. You’re getting stronger all the time, and the next time you lash out at someone— a friend or an enemy— you could kill them.”

  Dylan stood and threw his hands in the air. “I don’t know what to do! If I try to bottle it up, it just gets worse. Conner’s been bothering me for months. Picking on Aiden and bullying Hanna. I held back for Aiden’s sake. I can control it, but not forever.”

  Mom took his hand. “I can help you, but you have to let me. I know we’re not exactly the same, but I remember what it was like to be angry at the world.”

  “I’m here for you too,” Dad said. “I’m not dragonkin, but I was once a teenage boy.”

  Dylan wished he could fly away and leave everything behind.

  * * *

  Everyone got out of the way when Dylan walked into school the next day. There were plenty of whispers, and he pretended not to hear them. Now everyone had a reminder of how dangerous he was. Dylan wasn’t sure if he liked it or hated it or somehow felt both at the same time.

  He went to his locker. No note. No one shoved him in the hall. Dylan went to his homeroom, thinking about what a nice change this was.

  “Dylan, the principal wants to see you,” the teacher said as soon as he stepped through the door.

  Damn it.

  No need to ask what it was about. “Fine.” He spun around and headed for the principal’s office, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Would the police be there again? The wardens?

  Ms. Nejem had a cool expression when he walked in. “Please close the door.”

  He did it without arguing. At least they were alone.

  She gestured toward the chair in front of her desk. “I got several calls last night and this morning. It seems you got in a fight with Conner Mays and put him in the hospital.”

  Dylan sat. “Yeah. Outside of school, so it’s none of your business.”

  She leaned forward, frowning. “It is my business when parents are afraid for the safety of the students in my school. This isn’t the first time you’ve gotten in a fight, nor is this the first time you’ve sent a fellow student to the hospital.”

  Right. That time in fourth grade with the older kid. “Conner’s been threatening and bullying my friends for months. He deserved it.”

  Her frown deepened. “And it’s your place to hand out justice? I assigned a hall monitor to watch both of you.”

  “So then Conner just sends his friends to do his dirty work. You gonna watch all of them? I took care of the problem.”

  A faint hint of incense and spice drifted through the room. “You beat a boy unconscious, broke two of his ribs, his nose, knocked out three of his teeth, and cracked his cheekbone.” The scent got stronger. “Now I have his parents calling for your blood and several others agreeing. They want you arrested and handed over to the wardens.”

  Was it really that bad? Would they lock him up, or worse? “It’s not like I killed anyone,” Dylan muttered.

  “And thank God you didn’t.” She sighed. “I’ve tried to give you a chance, Dylan, but I’m at my limit. You’re suspended indefinitely. I’ll have to discuss this with the PTA to see if they’re willing to let you back in. Someone will escort you to clean out your locker, and I’ll call your parents to take you home.”

  So there it was. He’d finally done something bad enough to get kicked out of school. So much for graduating and helping Aiden find his other family. Dylan stood, almost knocking the chair over. “Fine. No one ever wanted me here anyway.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  It wasn’t raining today, so as soon as Aiden saw Hanna and Tiago he herded them through the line and took them outside. Their usual table had been left empty and he quickly claimed it.

  “What’s going on?” Hanna asked, tense and nervous.

  “Dylan got suspended.” Aiden looked at his food, wondering if he’d be able to eat. “I don’t know if he’s coming back. Ms. Yang told me in gym.” They’d apparently notified all Dylan’s teachers.

  “Oh no.” Hanna shrank in on herself.

  “That sucks,” Tiago said.

  Aiden glanced around. Was the hall monitor watching them? Or had she only been around to watch Dylan and Conner?

  Echoing his thoughts, Hanna said, “What if they come after us?”

  “The werewolves?” Tiago asked, sitting a little straighter. “I can handle them.”

  “Don’t you start,” Aiden snapped, his breath coming shallower.

  “Sorry. Just trying to make you feel better.” He looked down. “Unless Dylan’s locked up, I don’t think they’ll try anything.”

  “He’s not in j
ail, is he?” Hanna asked Aiden.

  “Not that I know of. Ms. Yang said suspended. Sent home.”

  Hanna sighed, shoulders sagging. “Then we’re okay.”

  Aiden looked between her and Tiago. “Am I missing something?”

  “You’re under Dylan’s protection. If they touch you, they know he’ll come after them,” Tiago said. “Doesn’t matter that he’s not here. They know he can find a way to get to them.”

  Aiden shoved his hands through his hair. “When did my life become some kind of gang movie?”

  “Monster movie,” Tiago said without looking up, a little smirk on his face.

  Warmth spread through Aiden, and a laugh escaped him. For just a moment, he forgot about everything else.

  “Um, Aiden,” Hanna said, picking seeds off the bun of her shredded-pork sandwich. “We didn’t talk about… you know. Could we… talk later?” She glanced at him without lifting her head.

  A guilty blush crept up his cheeks, and he fought an urge to look at Tiago. “Sure. Of course.” What was he going to say to her? He couldn’t explain why he was okay with her kissing Dylan. What if he said something that sounded like a rejection? He didn’t want Hanna to think there was anything wrong with her.

  “Is this about the kissing thing?” Tiago asked.

  Aiden wanted to die. Just a little.

  “Yes,” Hanna said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She put a hand on his arm.

  “We’ll talk later.” He was not having this conversation in front of Tiago.

  “Oh, sorry.” Tiago made a face. “I guess this is an embarrassing thing. A private thing. I can go if you want to talk.”

  “No,” Aiden said a little too quickly. “Let’s just all eat before our food gets cold.”

  The weight of Dylan’s absence hung over the table. At least it felt that way to Aiden. He realized the three of them had never been together without Dylan. The girl he used to date and the boy he wanted to make out with. God, this was awkward.