by Cate Dean
“No—you're fighting. I know fighting when I hear it.” Tears filled her eyes, crept into her voice. “Now you have to stop, before it ruins what's between you.”
“What's between. . .” I was so startled I lost my train of thought. She thinks we're a couple. Oh my God.
Before I could stop myself I looked at Sam. He refused to meet my eyes. “Katie,” he said. “We're not—we're just—” He let out his breath. Was he—oh, sweet heaven above. Sam Emmett was blushing.
I got so distracted I didn't hear the warning sounds until it was too late.
“Margaret!”
I froze at the sound of Mom's voice. Sam had the nerve to raise his eyebrows. “Margaret?”
Not now. Oh, please, let a sinkhole open in the kitchen floor. When that didn't happen I limped forward, hoping to head her off before she—
Too late. Mom sailed in through the doorway, her frown already in place. “Whose car is blocking my . . . oh.” She smiled when she spotted Sam. And I had a horrifying, clear picture of exactly what ran through her mind. All of it wrong. Setting her paisley printed work bag on the table, she converged on him. “Hello, Sam. We meet again. I see my daughter’s in one piece, so this must be more—social.” He nodded, glancing at me. I didn’t have time to shake my head before Mom turned to me. “Sweetheart, why didn’t you tell me you and Sam were,” she gave me that smile—the “I know what’s really going on” smile. “Friends?”
Acute embarrassment shot heat over every inch of my body. I must have looked like a bruised beet. “Mom—”
“We’re working on a project together,” Sam said. He flashed me his heart stomping smile—the one that I never thought I would see directed at me. Me—the geek. If my body hadn’t been throbbing already from the various bruises and scrapes, I would have pinched myself to check for awake status. “I’m sorry we invaded you like this, without warning.”
He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, and charmed her as he led her away from the office. Away from Jake. It would have worked, if Mom hadn’t spotted Katie.
“Is that—Katie Hyatt?” Mom pulled out of Sam’s grip and circled the table, trapping Katie in the corner, next to the refrigerator, where she tucked herself when Mom came in. “What are you doing here, honey? I didn’t know you were acquainted with my daughter, who is just full of surprises today.”
Uh oh. I recognized that tone. I was terrified of that tone. It was Mom’s prelude to using my full name. I had to cut her off—Sam hearing her call me Margaret was damaging enough.
“Mrs. Finch.” Katie gave her a brilliant smile. “Alex teaches my dance class. We just met each other, in the public garden. I was thirsty, so Alex invited me for a drink. I told her,” she glanced at me, the hand behind her back pointing at Mom. “You were redoing my dad’s library. Small world, isn’t it?”
“Indeed.” Mom raised her eyebrows at me. I smiled, trying to look like it was a normal day, and I didn’t have a bloody, half monster in the office just behind her. “Would you all like to stay for dinner?”
Startled, my gaze jumped to the clock. How did I lose track of time like that? I missed all of my afternoon classes, and—if I hadn’t lost track of the days as well—my weekly private dance lesson with Madame Chloe, who would happily rip into me when I dared to show my face to her again. Not that I could do much of anything on my throbbing ankle. My life was unraveling, and I couldn’t seem to stop it.
“Alex already invited me.” I stared at Sam, positive I’d heard things. When he smiled at me, nodding his head, I figured I had a concussion from last night. “Why don’t I help you with that, Mrs. Finch.” He picked up the work bag just as she reached for it, and headed out of the kitchen. “I haven’t seen much of your home. Would you mind giving me a tour? I’ve always loved this neighborhood.”
He said the two things Mom could never resist—home tour and bragging about our historic neighborhood. This house was her baby, and her three-dimensional calling card.
I took the hint, and the second they were out of sight I limped to the office. “We have to get him out of here. My mom’s home.”
Candace didn’t even bother looking up. “Not until I’m done.”
Misty stood in the farthest corner, trying not to look sick. I understood—Jake was a bloody mess. And that mess spread over the sheet draped on the sofa. A sheet Candace must have brought with her. I hoped. Mom would kill me slowly if it was from her 400 thread count sets.
Candace pressed together the top edge of the nasty gash on Jake’s leg and added a final stitch, closing the wound.
He let out a low groan. “What are you doing?”
“Saving your life, you big lug.” She leaned over Jake’s leg, using her teeth to snap the thread just above his stitches. I flinched watching him flinch. “Are you going to help, Finch, or simply admire the view?”
“Um—help?”
“Then move that little butt over here and keep his arm still. The faster I get this thug stitched up, the sooner we leave.”
I moved. Kneeling next to him, I grabbed his wrist, startled by how much blood stained his clothes.
“So many pet names,” Jake said, his voice raw, but amused. “I think she likes me.”
Candace snorted, but I saw a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. “Wiseass.”
“Years of practice, sweetheart. God—” He sucked in his breath when she slid a needle into his arm. “Some—warning next time.”
This time Candace smiled. She didn’t have the best bedside manner, but she was fast, and efficient. And she’d keep whatever she found to herself. Honestly—who would believe her?
“Okay—he’s good to go. Give me your hand, you big hunk. Let’s see if you can sit.” Jake grinned at her and held out his hand, the grin twisting as she hauled him up. “Help me get him on his feet, Misty. Misty.” She jumped at Candace’s sharp tone. “I need you, here, now. You promised.”
Swallowing, Misty crossed the room. I moved out of the way so she could help Candace pull Jake to his feet.
“Alex?” We all froze when my dad stepped into the room. Swallowing past the giant panic lump in my throat, I turned to face him, and braced myself for his disappointment. That always hurt me more than any angry outburst. I froze again, this time in shock, when he closed the door, locked it, and strode over to Jake. “Are you all right, son?”
Jake nodded, staring at Dad like he had two heads. “Sorry about the blood, sir.”
“It will wash. Alex,” he turned to me, laid his hands on my shoulders. The concern on his face had tears stinging my eyes. “Was it the same—creature?” I nodded, afraid that if I tried to talk I’d just lose it, in front of everyone. Dad pulled me into a quick, hard hug. When he let me go, he rubbed his face, looking tired. “All right. Let’s get your friends out of here before your mother sees them.”
I didn’t understand why Dad cared so much about Jake when he was the one who—
Mental head slap—Dad didn’t know. I never told him Jake’s name, just everything else.
I was glad now I left out that little detail. Dad took Jake from Candace, turning him toward the back door we hardly ever used. I limped forward and moved the tall bamboo screen Mom always stuck in front of it, so she could pretend it didn’t ruin the aesthetics of her design.
That door led out to the far corner of the yard, conveniently close to the side of the house. Dad tightened his grip when Jake stumbled again, half-carried him around the side. “Check the front for me.”
I did, giving the all clear thumbs up. Misty ran ahead of us, opening the back door and spreading the bloodstained sheet over the seat. “Let me help you, Mr. Finch.”
“Go around to the other side,” he said. “Help me guide him in.” She bounded around the car and opened the door, kneeling on the seat. “You really need to see a doctor, son.”
Jake met his eyes, obviously startled by Dad’s concern. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be okay—fast healer.”
At the moment, he looked li
ke walking death, but with his—extra genes, I figured he stood a better chance of healing than the average human.
I would not think about the possibility of Sam having those same genes. No—not thinking about it.
Dad helped him into the car, and I heard a noise that stopped my heart. The front door opening.
“Raleigh? Do we have more company?” Yeah—my dad’s name is Raleigh. Didn’t I mention that before now? It’s British, a family name. Like mine. And he hates it. Like me.
“Friends of Alex’s, dear. Just leaving.” He slammed the back door. Candace had already taken stock and was in the driver’s seat. She gunned the engine, gave me a look that told me we weren’t done, and backed out of the driveway. Dad did a quick inspection of himself, then me, and took my arm. “Let’s go rescue Sam.”
~ ~ ~
Dad drove Katie home, after convincing Mom she couldn’t stay for dinner.
And dinner? That was—odd.
First, having Sam Emmett eating dinner at my house. Second, having Mom interrogate Sam like he was my boyfriend. And finally, to top off the odd with embarrassing, Dad studied him the entire meal, like he was some kind of exotic specimen.
I didn’t get a break until dessert, in the form of a call on Sam’s cell. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. I never saw anyone’s face drain of color so fast.
“Excuse me,” he said, standing. “I have to take this.”
After exchanging glances with Dad, while Mom was busy cutting the carrot cake we wouldn’t be having, I followed Sam out to the living room.
“Okay, Mom. I’m on my way.” Sam ended the call, and stared at the phone. I figured he didn’t see me come in, so I cleared my throat. His head snapped up. “Alex.” He tried for a smile, and failed miserably. “I have to go.”
“I heard. That’s all I heard, Sam.”
He nodded, looking relieved. “Thank your mom for me. Having dinner here was a nice—break.”
“I will.” The next words popped out before I could stop them. “Is everything okay, Sam?”
“Jake got home. And Mom wants me there. She said there was an—issue. That’s all.” Letting out a sigh, he ran one hand through his hair. “Which could mean anything with my family right now.”
I walked him to the front door. We went outside, and I shut the door, to keep Mom from ambushing him with dessert. “Can you—” I really hated to ask, but I wanted to know how things turned out. “Will you let me know how Jake is doing?”
The anger that flared in his eyes shocked me. I took a step back, recoiling when he reached out to me. Pain snuffed the anger.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice ragged. “But I don’t care. I don’t owe him anymore, and I’ll make sure he pays for hurting my mom, for—”
He cut himself off, but I already knew what he didn’t say. Jake bit her, and it may be only a matter of time before she—changed.
“Sam.” His head snapped up. I swallowed, met his eyes. I wasn’t sure if he knew that I knew. “It’s been ten years since you were attacked, and you’re still—you.” His eyes widened, what little color he had left in his face gone. “Your mom could very well be the same.”
“How—” He choked on the word, then closed his eyes. “Jake. When?”
“Outside your house, the day after the attack.”
“Damn him—” He headed for his SUV.
“I don’t care, Sam.” I said the words in a rush, and stopped him in his tracks. “I’m glad Jake told me.”
He shook his head, and let out a curse as he ran to his SUV. Before I could even think to go after him, he gunned the engine and shot backward out of my driveway. I watched him roar away, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut.
I watched him take the corner too fast, and let out my breath when he made it without rolling. Not sure how we stood after that unfortunate conversation, I headed back to the house. My phone buzzed, telling me I had a text. I took it out of my pocket, saw that it was from Sam.
My knees buckled as I read it. Fortunately, the porch was right behind me.
Alex—not supposed to tell you, but going to. Dad tried to kill Jake. I wish he had. Mom stopped him, but got hurt again. May not be in school for a while. I’m sorry. Don’t call me.
I leaned against the porch rail, closed my eyes. How much worse could this mess get?
My phone rang, and I answered it without looking at the number.
“Alex.” Candace’s no nonsense voice had me sitting up. “Jake is here, and almost as banged up as he was this afternoon. He won’t say a thing, so it’s your turn.”
I swallowed, blurted out the words before I could stop myself. “Sam’s dad tried to kill him.”
Candace let out a string of curse words that had me raising my eyebrows in appreciation. I heard her talk to Jake. “Sam’s dad did this to you?” Mumbling from Jake I couldn’t understand had her cursing again. “So you’ll stay here, you big lug.” With a sigh, she spoke to me again. “I’ll patch him up, again. But I’m asking for payment this time.”
I closed my eyes, pretty sure I already knew. “What payment?”
“Answers. And sooner rather than later.”
She hung up without saying goodbye.
Just like I expected, she asked for the one thing I couldn’t give her.
15
After an interrogation from Mom about Sam’s intentions, I managed to escape. Until Dad caught up with me outside my room.
“I like Sam, sweetheart, but my decision still stands—”
“Dad—”
“With a condition.” I didn’t want to hope, but I couldn’t help myself. “You can see Sam—at school.” I was both relieved, and seriously disappointed. Dad cradled my face, something he only did when he knew he’d upset me. “I need time—to sort this out. It’s not easy for me, either, Alex, but I have to do what’s necessary to keep you safe.”
He pulled out the protection card. I couldn’t argue with that.
“I do understand. I’m really tired, Dad.”
“Got it. Conversation over.” He kissed the top of my head. “Good night, sweetheart.”
I finally made it to the privacy of my room. Closing the door, I leaned against it with a sigh.
Whatever Dad finally decided, it didn’t matter now. I was pretty sure Sam would never talk to me again.
On that happy note, I bent over from the waist, stretching my hamstrings—and something sharp poked into my right hip. I straightened, reached into my front pocket. And pulled out the small book Katie gave me, just before Sam interrupted us.
I decided to take a closer look—it would keep my mind off Sam, and the fact I couldn’t see him anymore outside of school. I tossed the book at the pile of pillows against my headboard, then sat on my bed to wrestle off my motorcycle boots. Once I got myself out of them I crawled across the bed, my ankle thanking me for the freedom, and picked up the book. With a tired sigh, I sank into the soft, squishy pillows.
Taking my time, I examined the book, front and back. The leather cover had water stains, assorted scratches, and no title of any kind. I studied the binding. No title there either.
I opened it, found a copyright date on the back of what should have been the title page, and a vanity publishing company logo. The book was only twenty years old. My breath stalled in my throat when I turned the page.
A Guide to the Hyattown Safe Haven
by Andrew Emmett
Andrew, as in Drew, as in Sam’s father. Swallowing, I turned to the next page, read the single paragraph.
This is a guide to all that find refuge here. The laws of our safe haven are simple: no violence, and no discrimination. Follow the rules, and you are welcome. Break the rules, and we will ban you. Inside this guide you will find a list of your fellow refugees, with descriptions and an illustration to identify them. There is a notes section at the back, for those who can write, and a map of the haven network. Welcome, and safe journey when you leave.
“Oh, my God.�
� My hands shook as I scanned the pages. Just like he promised, there was a seriously well-researched list of—monsters, what were called half-humans, and, God, a section that was titled Others.
The illustrations were simple. And just about the creepiest I’d ever seen. But I found myself studying each one, finding a certain—beauty, I guess I could call it, in some of the creatures. My heart stopped when I found the illustration that looked like Jake.
Fenris Wolf. I remembered Fenrir, from my mythology class. Not a good start, considering the original was violent, and the son of the trickster, Loki. Yes, mythology class. It was freaking fantastic. And I was glad now for the background.
Scanning the description, I kept going until I found the section named Side Effects.
As in “what happened when someone was attacked” side effects.
There is no effect on another creature, aside from the injury. But recent incidents have shown that when a human is attacked by the Fenris, there is a good chance they will change, become the monster, with no control over when and where. Observations are ongoing, as the only human to survive such an attack is part of a haven outside London, England.
“Not anymore,” I whispered. I wondered if that human was still alive—and decided I’d rather not know.
I turned the page—and the wide, angry eyes of the monster who stalked me had me throwing the book out of sheer reaction.
Once I calmed myself, I picked the book up off the floor, and turned on every light in my room before I sat down to read it.
The Devil. It was simply called the Devil. Exactly what Katie called it.
Speculation that this creature is related to the Tasmanian Devil may not be far off. It has a fierce loyalty to its mate, and is ferocious when its home is threatened. It is sensitive to light, which makes it difficult to live in most aboveground havens. We are unfortunate enough to have the right environment for it to not only live, but thrive.
This creature is only welcomed into the haven if a Fenris is in residence, as they seem to keep a truce around each other, if an uneasy one. Their strengths are equal, and their need for a home just as ferocious. In my opinion, the Devil should be in the same category as the Wendigo—permanently banned. But others welcome them once they arrive, and I am in the minority.
