by Cate Dean
“You think I’m spending time with you, trying to have lunch with you, and introducing you to my friends because we’re working on a stupid project together?” That was exactly what I thought. “You’re the coolest girl I’ve ever hung out with. You’re wicked smart, funny, and though you seriously lack in the style department,” I tugged self-consciously on my hoodie, “you don’t follow just to belong. I really admire that.”
“I—wow.” I didn’t know what to say.
“I never told you this,” she turned on to the road that would take us out of town, and straight to Sam’s house. “But you were so focused when we were attacked in the McGinty house. I seriously expected to be torn into messy little bits, but you just kept moving, kept fighting back. I think you startled it—Jake, just as much.”
“I just . . .” My voice faded as Sam’s voice echoed in my head. You have good instincts, you can think under pressure, and you have the fastest reflexes I’ve seen in a long time. “I just wanted to get us out of there—preferably with all our body parts intact.”
She pulled over, and turned to me. “Don’t you ever watch horror movies? The gorgeous blonde always screams like a complete bubble head and gets eaten. The smart girl figures out how to make a weapon from string and a toothpick. You’re the smart girl in this movie, Alex.”
I rubbed my face. This conversation felt like something out of, well, a movie. Absolutely surreal. “We got ourselves out, Misty. You found the weapon—”
“And you hauled off and beat on that hairy nightmare. I almost had heart failure when I saw you running at that thing. What I’m trying to tell you is you and Sam are that whole yin-yang thing—”
“If you say he completes me I’m going to punch you.”
Misty laughed, clapping her hands. “That’s what I like about you—funny and smart.” She pulled back on to the road, and turned in at Sam’s driveway, stopping near the front door. “You are going to go in there, tell him what happened.”
“But—” I scrambled for a way out of this. “You said he was in Irvine—”
“This morning.” She pointed to the SUV in front of their garage. Sam’s SUV.
“My dad told me I can’t play monster anymore—”
“Did he say never speak to Sam again, as long as you live?”
“No, but—”
“Did he say you could tell Sam about what happened last night, so he knows what steps to take?”
“Yes.”
“Any more excuses?”
I let out a sigh. “Not at the moment.”
She pointed at the door. “Go. Sam can drive you home.” When I hesitated, she moved her hand to my shoulder. “I’ve known Sam all my life, and you’re the first girl he ever looked at, or talked about, as more than just a friend.”
“He—what? Really?” If my mind wasn’t already in panic mode, that did it.
She smiled at me. “Go.”
I got out of the car, so nervous I had to remind myself to breathe. And forgot to do even that when I saw Sam standing at the open front door.
“Hi, Alex.”
Speaking forced me to breathe again. I sucked one in, felt like a complete idiot when I started choking. Instead of pounding on my back, Sam helped me sit on the front step, and waited for me to catch my breath.
“Hey, Sam,” Misty leaned across the passenger seat. “Can you take Alex home? I have to get back to school.”
“Sure.”
Of course, she asked him while I was incapacitated, so I couldn’t argue. With a wave she took off, leaving me alone with him.
“Sam, you don’t have to—”
“It’s not a problem. Come on in, and I’ll get you some water.”
He pulled me to my feet, letting me go after he led me inside, and left me in the living room. It gave me time to compose myself, as much as I possibly could around Sam. It seemed the only time I didn’t feel clumsy and stupid around him was when we were in danger. Or talking about Jake. Terrific basis for a relationship.
He came back with a glass of water. “Sit down, Alex. You look exhausted.” Waiting until I sank to the sofa, he handed me the glass, and sat in the chair across from me. “What are you doing here?”
“I—something happened last night.” I told him, staring at my clenched hands. I kept talking, even when he sucked in his breath at my description of what stalked me. I just wanted to get it out and never have to say anything about it ever again. “I wanted you to know, so you won’t be blindsided if it decides to show . . .”
My voice faded to nothing as Sam jumped over the coffee table and hauled me to my feet. “It didn’t hurt you, did it? Don’t lie to me, Alex. This is my fault—”
“I’m bruised, from rolling around on the sidewalk, and I twisted my ankle. I’m okay—my dad got to me in time.” I still shuddered at how close it had been. “And why is it your fault? We were looking for Jake.”
“I should have been looking. On my own.” He obviously just realized he was all but embracing me, because he let go so fast I fell against the sofa. “I’m taking you home, and you are out of it. I couldn’t stand it if you were hurt—”
He cut himself off and stalked out of the living room. I should have been relieved; he just made all of it easy for me. Instead, it felt like an invisible fist was squeezing my heart.
Before I had time to recover he reappeared, car keys in hand. I pushed off the sofa and followed him, trying not to limp. He already beat himself up enough because of me. I obviously didn’t hide it well enough; once we reached his SUV, he turned around and lifted me up into the passenger seat.
I stared out my window as he got in, started up the engine, and backed in a half circle, facing us toward the long driveway. “I’m sorry, Alex.” The despair in his quiet voice tightened my throat. “For everything.”
He punched the gas, and we flew down the driveway, slowing just enough for him to check for cross traffic before he swerved out on to the main road. I clutched the door handle, watched him speed up, like every thought pushed his foot harder on the gas pedal.
“Sam.” I kept my voice as level as possible. “Sam, you need to—”
“I’m not going to let you talk me out of this. You’ve already been hurt enough—”
“You’re doing ninety.”
He glanced down at the speedometer, and let out a muttered curse, slowing so abruptly the uber sensitive seatbelt snapped me back against the seat. I waited, trying not to breathe, until our speed stabilized and I could loosen it.
“I’m sorry—are you okay?”
“I’m fine—” I let out a gasp when the seatbelt rubbed against a bruise on my ribs. Sam cursed again and jerked the wheel, bouncing us on to the ridged dirt alongside the road. I held on, jaw clenched as every ache protested. Loudly. “Ouch—”
“Sorry—God, I’m such an idiot.” He eased the SUV to a halt, turned to face me. “You didn’t tell me how badly you got banged up.”
“I didn’t want you blaming yourself for that as well.” I freed myself from the seatbelt and turned toward Sam. “Whatever came after me last night had nothing to do with you. It just showed up, or was already here, and followed me from the sewers, or the deserted town. We never explored Misty’s question about who that safe haven was for. Maybe last night was the answer—shoved violently in our faces, but the answer.”
All the color drained out of his face. “You think my ancestors left that place intact as a monster haven?”
“Not that exactly—but a place for people who didn’t fit anywhere else, or didn’t belong anywhere else. Somewhere they knew they could go, where they wouldn’t be molested for who they were.”
He crossed his arms. “Like monsters.”
“Fine, Mr. One Track Mind. Did you stop to think that maybe all the creatures finding safety there weren’t evil, or carnivorous?”
He studied me, his anger evaporating. “Go on.”
“I’m still working this out. I didn’t get much sleep last night.” Staring
at my hands, because I really didn’t want to see his ridicule, I threw out the theory that had kept me buried in research half the night. “What if it weren’t all just stories? What if mythological creatures, and some of the urban legends, and folklore, all had a basis in fact?”
Sam snorted, and my defenses snapped up. “You really didn’t get much sleep.”
I looked at him, anger overriding any potential embarrassment. “Hear me out. Research is something I am damn good at.” I don’t swear often, which tends to make it more effective when I do. It certainly got Sam’s attention. “I did a boatload of cross checking, and some in depth reading, and I came to the same conclusion every time. The same stories, the same myths, are imbedded in every culture.”
“That doesn’t make them true.”
“What if it does? Open your mind. Your own cousin is a walking, talking myth, but you can just refuse out of hand to believe that there may be more truth than fantasy behind them?” Frustrated, I let out my breath and pushed hair off my face. “We found an entire town underground. A town, Sam, that someone deliberately spent a lot of time and money to preserve.”
“How do you—”
“My dad’s an architect. I know support work when I see it.” I was so frustrated I wanted to smack him. Instead I used a verbal slap, knowing it would hit its mark with stinging accuracy. “How long ago was Jake attacked?”
Sam flinched, and guilt wrapped around my frustration. “Ten years.”
“And in all that time, you never stopped to think there may be more than one?”
“You think I’m stupid?” He got angry, and I welcomed it. So much easier to argue than to watch him tear himself apart over something that was not his fault. “Of course I thought of it! My parents never stopped looking for—”
We both jumped when his cell rang. Sam picked it up, and froze, staring at the screen. All the color drained out of his face.
“What?” I whispered. “Sam?”
“It’s Jake.” Swallowing, he swiped the screen, glanced at me, and put the call on speaker. “Where are you?” All we heard was a low moan, and crying in the background. “Jake?”
“Sam—hold on . . .” His voice faded, like he’d pulled the phone away from his mouth. We found out why a second later. Harsh coughs burst out of the phone, followed by a series of groans. He came back, sounding weaker than before. “God—that hurt. Sam?”
“I’m here.” He clutched the phone. “Are you—what happened?”
“I need you to . . . get here. I can’t protect—damn . . .”
“Jake—talk to me, Jake.” A loud crash startled us. I let out a gasp and grabbed Sam’s wrist. He looked at me, dread on his face. “Damn it, Jake—”
“Jake can’t talk right now.” We both stared at the phone, the young, female voice completely unexpected. And it sounded familiar. “The monster hurt him, so bad.” We could hear tears in the girl’s voice. She cleared her throat and kept talking. “He saved me, and that green-eyed devil hurt him.” I clapped one hand over my mouth as an image of green eyes and darkness flashed through my mind. “Please, you have to help him.”
~ ~ ~
Sam clutched the phone, and he looked panicked. “I—”
“Katie?” I leaned closer to the phone, so I wouldn’t have to shout. I was pretty sure I remembered that voice from one of the tiny dancers classes I taught.
“Yes.”
“It’s Alex, from the dance studio. Do you remember me?”
“Alex—yes, I remember. You’re the really pretty dancer.”
I blushed, glancing over at Sam, who studied me, eyebrows raised, like he was seeing a new side of me. Well, he was—no one at school knew about my dancing. Until now.
“Katie, are you safe right now? Can you stay where you are long enough for us to find you?”
“Yes.” She sniffed. “The devil’s gone. But Jake tried to stop it—he tried!” Panic had her voice escalating.
“I know he did, Katie. Is Jake still unconscious?”
There was silence after my question. I hoped it meant she was checking him, and not gone. “I can’t wake him up.”
“It’s okay—”
“Is he still breathing?” Sam practically shouted over me. I shook my head at him, frowning.
Katie answered before I told her she didn’t have to. “Yeah. But he’s bleeding a lot.”
I pulled the phone out of Sam’s hand, to keep him from interrupting again. “Can you tell where you are?”
“No. It’s dark—I don’t know, I can’t—” I heard her panicking, sobs choking her.
“Katie, it’s okay—”
“You have to get us out of here!”
Katie was losing it, fast. I drew on my experience of dealing with traumatized girls in dance class. “Focus on my voice, Katie. Just on my voice.” Her ragged breathing started to slow down. “Tell me everything you can see.”
“The devil came up from underground—” Katie started crying again.
“It's okay, sweetheart.” I motioned for Sam to start driving. “We're on our way. What can you see?”
“An open hole above me, like—in the street, what's it called—a manhole cover.”
I looked at Sam. “What else?”
“I can—I can hear water running!” She got excited. “It's right above us.”
“Keep talking to me, Katie, describe your surroundings.” I pulled out my phone and brought up the GPS tracking app. Lowering Sam's phone I whispered to him. “What's Jake's number?”
He told me and I punched it into the tracker.
“Alex?”
I brought Sam's phone closer. “Right here, Katie.”
“I think Jake's battery is dying. The phone keeps beeping . . .”
“It's okay, sweetheart. We're on our way to you right now.” I took in a shaky breath. “I need you to do something really hard and scary, but it will help me find you. I need you to turn Jake's phone off—”
“No!”
“Listen to me, Katie.” I talked over her hysterical crying, fear squeezing my heart. “We have to keep the battery running as long as possible. I'm tracking you right now.” I looked at the screen on my phone, watched the app I designed pick up Jake’s signal. “I just need a little more time, but the phone has to be active for me to find you.”
“Okay.” She sniffed. “I'm turning it off. Please hurry, Alex.”
That plea rang through my head as I punched commands in, trying to get the app to work faster. “Come on . . .”
The countdown popped up on the screen. Just a few more seconds—
The counter stopped, then started blinking. I’d lost the signal.
“No—” I tapped furiously, trying to save what had already been captured. “His phone died.”
Sam glanced over at me. “Did you find him?”
“Not quite. Where are we?”
“Headed for town hall.”
“Got it.” I watched the dots appear on my map, showing where Jake went the last hour, and where his phone was when it died. “He's somewhere behind . . .”
“Alex.”
“It’s loading—I really need to upgrade this,” I muttered. Finally, the thumbs up appeared in the corner. I looked over at Sam. “He's behind the courthouse.”
With a curse, Sam pounded the steering wheel. We were stuck in the typical afternoon traffic snarl—and with all the decorative brick planters used to separate traffic, turning left here was not an option. Not for another couple miles.
He looked at me—and my heart jumped at the gleam in his eyes.
“Hang on, Alex.”
“What are you . . .” I saw what he was going to do. I dropped both phones and braced myself. Right before we jumped the brick planter divider.
The four wheel drive ground at the brick, carried us up and over. I cringed as the undercarriage scraped on the way down.
And Sam kept going. I held on, swallowing a scream as cars swerved to keep from hitting us. He punched the gas, taki
ng us across traffic and jumping the sidewalk.
“Sam!”
“Almost there.” We bounced off the sidewalk, into the parking lot behind town hall. He shot across the nearly empty lot. “Hang on.”
He twisted the wheel and skidded to a halt next to the sidewalk. Grabbing my wrist, he hauled me across the seat. I snatched up my phone, tumbling out of the driver’s side.
Sam caught me, set me on my feet, and pulled me after him, ignoring the people who stared at us. He dragged me around the side of the courthouse, my ankle giving me fits at the abuse. I clenched my jaw and focused on staying upright. Running with someone almost a foot taller was not easy.
He stopped so abruptly I slammed into his back. Clutching his arm, I peered around him.
There was no one here.
“You told me he was behind the courthouse.”
“I lost the signal before the app could finish . . .” My voice faded as I spotted the phone, half hidden under a wood bench. Dread shot through me, and I picked it up. Sam snatched it out of my hand, cursing. “Jake must have dumped it, so no one could track him.” I rubbed my eyes. “We’ve been tracking the phone he doesn’t have anymore.”
“How do we find him now?”
“We follow the clues. Katie told us what was around her. We have to keep looking.”
Sam grabbed my free hand and headed west. “Katie said there was water nearby. Do you think she meant the beach?”
“No, she said there was water running—” The obvious location nearly slapped me for not seeing it before. “I know where.” I slid the phone in my back pocket. “Come on!”
I switched direction, heading for the old public garden. Once the new botanical/Japanese/Chinese garden opened, it was pretty much deserted. And it had a river running through it, along with several stylized brass manhole covers. Yes, I’ve spent some time there; Mom and Dad love it for garden and outdoor space ideas.
Once we got past the art deco main gates, I had to slow down. My ankle started twisting on me, and I knew it wouldn’t take much more abuse.
“Alex?”
“I’m okay, just my ankle. Head for the river—”
“Why didn’t I think of that?” He leaned in and kissed my cheek before he sprinted through the trees.
