Alex Finch: Monster Hunter (The Monster Files Book 1)

by Cate Dean

  The crossbow still in my car. Along with any blood he and his mom may have smeared on the passenger seat, or the door—

  “Damn.” I pulled off the nightgown and got dressed again. I would have to wait until Dad went to bed, and then I had some clean up to do. I just hoped I’d be able to do it in the dark, and figure out where I was going to hide a giant crossbow.

  9

  Misty refused to leave me alone. And because we were partners on the English project, she had more opportunities to badger me. By the time we hit study period in the library I was ready to strangle her. Or lure her out to my car and hit her over the head with the crossbow I wedged into my tiny trunk.

  I finally dragged her to an empty corner to tell her to shut up. She started talking before I could open my mouth.

  “You have to tell me, Alex.” Her high-pitched whisper set my nerves on edge. “I’m part of this. You weren’t the only one nearly ripped apart by—”

  “Not. Another. Word.”

  Her blue eyes widened. She backed away from me, pressed into the corner. “But—”

  “Not here, Misty.” I let out a sigh. There was no way out of this one, and I’d never hear the end of it if she discovered after the fact. “I’ll call you tonight, and tell you what I can then. Okay?”

  She did a double air punch with imaginary pom poms. “Hey, I have an idea.” She lowered her arms. “I can drive you home, and we’ll talk at your house.”

  “I have my car here.”

  “You drove to school?” Her gaze shot down to my arm. “Are you—”

  “I’m fine. I have to run an errand, and I didn’t want to go home first.”

  “Will Sam be there?”

  My stomach twisted at the mention of his name. He wasn’t in school today, and I was terrified his absence meant his mom hadn’t made it.

  “Earth to Alex.” I looked up at Misty, startled by the concern on her face. “Hey—what happened? You look like someone died.”

  “Nothing. I’m tired, and my arm itches like crazy. Thanks, Misty.” I surprised both of us with that.

  “Now I know you’re not okay.” She studied me, then shook her head. “You need to go home, get some real sleep. You haven’t really looked good since—you know what.”

  “Thanks, Misty.” We both smiled, and for the first time, talking to her didn’t feel awkward. “Once my arm decides to stop itching like I have some disease, I should be able to get a decent night’s sleep.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Can I just say—eeewwwww.” She led the way back to our table, so clearly the private part of the conversation was over. “Why don’t I take the notes in case you don’t show tomorrow . . . oh.” She blinked at the flat stare I gave her, and flipped her blonde braid over one shoulder. “Never mind.”

  “I’ll make copies for you.”

  I gathered up the pile of notes, thanked myself for writing them out on the same size paper, and headed over to the copy machine. That was allowed, since copiers predated the current technology boom. If the school librarian, Mrs. Swiller, could destroy every computer at school, she’d be swinging a sledgehammer in a hot second. Instead, she glared at them, and forbid their use during study periods.

  With a sigh, I straightened my pile and stuck it in the automatic feeder, hitting the start button. My phone buzzed, vibrating against my right hip. I leaned against the side of the copier and eased it out, careful not to let the technophobic librarian see me. My heart stilled when I saw Sam’s number on the screen.

  Knowing I’d get my phone taken away if I were caught, I moved around the copier, and headed into the reference section right behind it, practically running as soon as I was out of sight. I wedged myself into the far corner and answered.

  “Sam?”

  “She’s okay, Alex.” I could hear the exhaustion, and the relief in his voice. “My mom is going to be okay.”

  “Oh, thank God.” I slid down the wall, tucking my knees under my chin. Lowering my voice, I held the phone close. “I’m in study period, so I can’t talk long. I’m meeting my dad at the county records office after school. He’s using his access card to get me in, so I’ll check for any place Jake might be using as a hideout.”

  There was a long pause. “Can I tag along?”

  He tried to sound casual, but I knew how important this was. We had to find Jake.

  “That should be okay. My dad likes you, so I don’t see a problem.”

  “Your dad likes me.” The humor in his comment had panic squeezing my throat, so I couldn’t interrupt, or keep him from continuing. “That’s good to know. So I can join your plan-hunting party?”

  “I—” My voice came out a strangled, unintelligible squeak. A squeak. Heat flamed my face.

  “I’ll take that as a yes. Alex,” I could hear the smile in his voice. “Thank you for brightening my day.”

  He ended the call. I lowered the phone, staring at it, my mind completely blank. I didn’t even have anything left to panic. Which I should have been doing, with gusto. Sam Emmett knows how I feel about him! There it was—my mind coming back online and into full panic mode.

  I pushed off the floor, shoving my phone in my pocket out of habit—right before I ran head on into Mrs. Swiller.

  “This is not a playground, Miss Finch.” Did I mention she doesn’t like me much? Yeah—too many clandestine trips to the computer when I was supposed to be “resting my mind from the ravages of technology.” I knew she wanted to grab me and drag me back to my designated seat, but she had been warned—repeatedly—that she was not allowed to manhandle the children. “Return to your seat, before I am forced to report you to your teacher.”

  I nodded, afraid of what might come out of my mouth if I dared open it. I stopped long enough to grab my notes and the copies, earning another glare. Along with every book in the school library, Mrs. Swiller had an unnatural attachment to the copier.

  She moved back to the low counter where we checked out books, and I could have sworn I saw her brush her hand over one of the computers. No—she hated them with a passion most people reserved for good things. Like chocolate. I was definitely seeing things.

  I shrugged it off and headed back to the table, where Misty was doing her best to read the book for our project. I had her put it on her ereader, so she couldn’t tear out pages in frustration. I knew she didn’t enjoy the experience, but since I’d already written enough notes to choke an elephant, she gave in pretty quickly. After all, I already did most of the grunt work.

  She looked up when I sat, setting the ereader on the table. “You still have your head on. She seems pretty mild today.”

  “Nothing she could accuse me of. Except breathing, or looking at the computers, or breathing.”

  Misty burst out laughing, smothering it with her hand as Mrs. Swiller’s head bounced up, her gaze scoping out the culprit. I shifted, hiding Misty until she composed herself. Like we were friends. I had to sit back, wrap my mind around that one. The populars and I did not get along. It was against the natural laws of high school. Me geek, her cheerleader. Nope—not computing.

  “Hey—you in there, Alex?” I blinked at her, feeling like I’d stepped out of the familiar and into the strange. As if finding out about Jake wasn’t enough strange in my life. “Time to go. Didn’t you hear the bell?”

  I shook my head, gathered up my notes and stuffed them in my backpack. Study period was my last class today, so I pushed past the other kids avoiding their next class until the last second, and sprinted to the parking lot. The sooner I got to those plans, the sooner I could find Jake.

  That last thought stopped me in my tracks. And I closed my eyes when I realized it was true.

  I wanted to help Sam. I wanted to be part of this.

  I was so screwed.

  10

  Dad waited for me near the glass front doors of the county records office. It was housed in a small brownstone, one of the original buildings when the first Emmett built his little kingdom by the sea. An ugly s
quare box, it held every scrap of paper that detailed the history of our humble beach town.

  Pushing off the wall, Dad held out his hand. “I have the plans laid out for you. I figured you for impatient, and not liable to wait quietly while the clerk pulled them.”

  “I should be insulted, but you know me too well.”

  “I’d also like to look over them with you.”

  He had me trapped, and he knew it. Any excuse I made now would look suspicious.

  “Okay.”

  Laughing, he kissed the top of my head. “I promise, your reputation as a parent-avoiding teenager will remain intact.”

  “Hilarious, Dad.” Trying not to scratch at my arm, I followed him inside.

  I didn’t think it was possible, but the inside was even uglier and more drab than the ugly, brown box outside. And brown seemed to be the decorating color of choice, down to the shirt and tie on the rail thin clerk. He studied me, like I was going to pillage his precious records. I was thankful for Dad’s presence now, and that he dealt with having the plans pulled before I got here.

  My polite filter didn’t always work around adults. Especially condescending adults.

  Dad smiled at the clerk and dragged me past the counter, all too aware of my mouth. He let me go once we were out of sight, and waved me into a small, windowless room.

  Long rolls of paper rested on a desk pushed against the side wall, one of them spread out on the huge table in the middle of the room. I recognized the straight lines and markings; I grew up scribbling on Dad’s old or discarded plans and blueprints, creating my own two dimensional fantasy houses.

  “I couldn’t wait for you,” Dad said, bending over what looked like the layout of a town. “This is Emmettsville, circa 1900.” He pointed to the main street. “Does this look familiar?”

  I studied it, frowning. “No. This isn’t Main Street. Not our Main Street.”

  “Got it in one.” He smiled at me, and the tension from my conversation with Sam slowly unknotted. “Tell me what else you see.”

  I scrutinized the plans. Streets that should have run north-south twisted and rambled, turning our ruler-straight grid of downtown into a rabbit warren. “I don’t get it—this isn’t what’s outside.”

  Dad grabbed another roll off the desk, laid it out next to the first one. “Now look at this one.”

  The familiar streets popped out, the grid of downtown, and the maze of old town. I looked at the date. 1902. “The town was founded in what, 1895? Why are these so different? Was the first one a rejected plan of town?”

  “That’s what I thought. Until I saw this.” Dad held down the corner of the skewed plans, next to the date. I gasped, watching a thin piece of foolscap curl away from the corner. Underneath it was another date, and another name. 1890, Hyattown. “Looks like we weren’t here first.”

  “Hyatt—as in the Hyatts?” The Hyatts were the other local old money family, but most of their business was international. Mrs. Hyatt volunteered at the theatre where my dance company performed. Mr. Hyatt was a major donor—and one of the angriest, most bitter men I’d ever met. “Are you saying—Emmett built over this town?” I pointed at the floor. “That it’s down there?”

  “It was common practice, Alex. Especially when it was more cost effective to cover up rather than tear down. I’m sure old Emmett had another motive, since he crowed about buying the land and the existing buildings from his rival Mick Hyatt for a song.”

  “What?” I’d never heard this bit of trivia. It was common knowledge that Emmett bought the land, but even the local history claimed it was undeveloped. “I thought—”

  “So does everyone else. It’s one of those sneaky little history rewrites. I’m sure Emmett figured it was bad publicity—especially since the original town was deserted.”

  “Deserted—as in ghost town deserted? We live on top of a ghost town?” This new, disturbing fact completely freaked me out.

  He smiled, rubbing my arm. “Looks like. It’s hardly a tragedy, Alex. We would have heard a long time ago if there were actual ghosts under our feet.” His smile faded. “However, if someone alive is coming and going without detection, there’s a good chance they are using whatever is left of the old town, and the abandoned sewer system I found.”

  My heart sank as I studied a schematic he laid over the plans. No simple tunnel system, or abandoned sewer. Jake had an entire town to hide in, and another level underneath it.

  “Thanks, Dad. Is it possible to get copies—” He picked up the final roll. I was afraid I would have to beg for them, and supply answers I promised not to divulge. “You are too good to me.” I reached for it, and he held it over his head. So much for easy, with no questions. “Dad—”

  “One question, Alex. Answer it, and they are yours.” Swallowing, I nodded. “Is this dangerous?”

  I closed my eyes briefly. When I looked at Dad again, I knew my reaction answered it for him. “It’s important. I can’t—” I stumbled over just telling him I couldn’t tell him.

  “Alex.” He pressed the roll of plans in my palm, and closed his big, calloused hands over mine. Growing up, his touch always made me feel safe, protected. This time it left me feeling isolated. And I hated it, hated Sam for putting me in this awkward position. “You know you can trust me, with anything. And you earned our trust, by always being upfront, even when it wasn’t in your best interest.” I managed a smile, even with tears stinging my eyes. “Whatever you can tell me won’t leave this room. I know your mom has a tendency to overreact.”

  “There’s the understatement of the year,” I said. He smiled, and pulled me over to the chairs tucked up against the wall. I knew what he was doing, and I wasn’t sure I could keep putting him off. “Dad—”

  “Talk to me, Alex.” He sat me down, and moved his chair until we were knee to knee. “We’re not leaving until you do.”

  I let out a sigh, and avoided his gaze by staring down at the copies clutched in my hands. “I signed a confidentiality agreement.”

  “And who coerced you to sign it?” My head snapped up at the anger in his voice. You have to understand something about my dad—he is the most easygoing, even tempered human being I have ever met. He just doesn’t do anger. To say I was shocked wouldn’t even touch my reaction. “Talk, Alex. Now.”

  Startled by his temper, I did. I told him everything, from the moment I heard that growl on the porch, to what happened yesterday with Sam and his mom, along with my vague theory about the boiler room explosion. Everything except the fact that Sam had been attacked, and that Jake actually was the monster. I couldn’t do that to Sam.

  By the time I finished, I felt this weight lift off me. Dad sat back in his chair, arms crossed, and a kick butt frown on his face. “Dad? You believe me, don’t you?”

  “God, Alex—I wish I didn’t.” Leaning forward, he brushed hair off my face. “You’ve always had a vivid imagination, but you never confused it with reality.” Panic flared in his eyes and he reached for my left arm. “That injury isn’t from—”

  “A rusty can.” I already got the tetanus shot, from the free clinic in old town. “It’s okay, Dad—he didn’t get close enough to—”

  “Alex.” Sam’s voice froze me in the chair.

  Dad had the opposite reaction.

  With an angry shout I had never heard before, he lunged out of the chair and pinned Sam against the wall. “What the hell did you drag my daughter into?”

  Sam didn’t even flinch. After facing off with Jake, Dad probably seemed as menacing as a house cat. “I am sorry, Mr. Finch. It’s my fault Alex got involved. If I can take the plans with me, it will end here.”

  I stared at him, those grey-blue eyes so calm as they met Dad’s furious glare. And I realized I was seriously, no going back, in love with Sam Emmett. God help me.

  “Alex?” Dad’s voice snapped me back. Both of them looked at me like I missed a chunk of conversation I was supposed to be part of. “Can you repeat the—question?” I hoped it was a qu
estion, because I heard nothing.

  Dad pressed his lips together, a sure sign he was trying not to smile. “Sam wants to do some preliminary exploring. I was just telling him you can go along—”

  “Really?”

  His “uh oh” smile appeared. I braced myself. “As long as I go with you.”

  And there it was. The condition that always came with that smile.

  I took in a deep breath, prepared for the backlash after my next words. “I don’t want you involved in this.”

  Dad stalked forward, pulling me after him as he headed for the far side of the room. Instead of the anger I expected, he looked—scared. “Do you think I want you part of this, Alex? Just your description of that monster is going to give me nightmares. It’s my job to protect you, to stand between you and danger—even unbelievable danger.” He rubbed his face. “Your mom would kill me for even thinking of letting you do this. And you are not going without me.”

  “Dad—”

  “Both of us, Alex. Or we hand the plans over to Sam and go home.”

  It was my turn to rub my face. Dad was an architect. Sure, he spent his college years in construction, and dabbled at home, but he spent more time in front of his computer than at a work site.

  Then again, I had no idea I could swing a makeshift bat at a monster until I had no choice. I sure didn’t get those nerves from Mom. She freaked out over a hangnail.

  “I can’t let Sam do this alone.”

  “Then it’s decided. I have flashlights in the truck.”

  He headed for the door, stopping long enough to speak to Sam, who looked at me and smiled. My heart stuttered, and I understood that these new, deeper feelings for Sam left me wide open for pain. And heartache.

  “Are you coming with us, Alex?” Dad’s amused voice snapped me back. I could feel the embarrassment rush over my face. The downside of pale skin: it shows everything.

  “Yeah.” I cleared my throat and followed them out, raising my eyebrows as the clerk glared at us, then at the clock. It was one minute after five. “Really? Am I going to get a citation now, or just a nasty warning because you had to stay one lousy minute over—”