by Cate Dean
I let out a sigh. Now I understood how Sam felt. And I couldn’t hang up on this argument, even if we’d been on the phone. Dad would have simply come after me. “I don’t want you there.”
“You’re not going to get that wish. I go, or you don’t go.”
We stared at each other, but I already knew I’d lost the argument. “Fine.” I sounded angry, and I didn’t care. I wanted him far far away from this, and he wasn’t cooperating. “But we do need to go home first, so I can get the plans.”
“No need.” He leaned over seat, and pulled out a long, rubber banded roll of paper. “I made my own copies.”
I looked at the thick roll, then back at him. “You were never going to let me do this alone, were you?”
“Nope.” Dropping them on the seat between us, he glanced over at me before he pulled back out on the road. “Call your mom, tell her I’m taking you out to dinner.”
“She’ll want to join us.”
“Give her a reason not to.”
As I tapped in our home number manually to give me more time, I hoped inspiration would come to me before she picked up.
18
The sun was setting by the time we got to the Emmett mansion. Sam stood in the doorway, highlighted by the porch light. Every window in the huge house behind him was dark. The truck’s headlights flashed over him as Dad swung around and parked.
Sam waited for us, and the closer I got, the worse he looked. He had his shoulder length hair pulled back; it accentuated the dark circles around his eyes, and the already sharp cheekbones. He looked like he hadn’t slept or eaten in a couple of days.
“Come inside,” he said. His voice sounded raspy, like he was catching a cold.
Dad stopped next to him, laid one hand on his shoulder. “Where are your parents, son?”
“Gone,” he whispered. “My mom’s already been hurt . . .” He took in a shaky breath, and I knew he was on the edge. I’d seen it before. “I need all my focus for this.” His gaze moved to me.
Temper I could usually control beat at me. “I can take care of myself—”
“You won’t have to,” Dad said. “I’ll be there, for both of you.”
Sam looked startled. "Sir—you can’t—”
“I’ve already seen what we’re up against, and I won’t leave you two alone to fight it.”
I clutched Dad’s hand, wanting him to not be here, to be safe at home, with Mom. I remembered the way he looked when he rescued me: leaping out of the truck, shotgun in hand, absolutely fearless as he faced down the green-eyed nightmare. He looked the same way now, his dark blue eyes intense, holding the same shotgun.
“Dad,” I whispered.
“Not without me, sweetheart.”
Sam let out his breath. “Thank you, sir.”
“Call me Lee.” He smiled. “No need to be formal when we’re about to jump into the abyss.”
I swallowed and clutched his hand tighter.
We just reached the front door when another car came screaming up the driveway. My heart jumped when I recognized it.
Misty was already opening the passenger door as the car shuddered to a halt. She waved at us and ran to help Jake, who was struggling to pull himself out of the back seat.
Sam shot past me. “What are you doing? I don’t want you here—”
“Guess we didn’t listen,” Jake said. He looked better. Impossibly better. He moved to Dad, flashed a smile. “Fast healer.”
Candace joined us, her arms crossed. “So, what’s the plan?”
Sam pushed past her, furious. “You’re not part of any plan. None of you.”
“Yes, we are, Samuel,” Jake said. Sam flinched at his full name. Moving to him, Jake laid both hands on his shoulders. Sam jerked away. Swallowing, Jake lowered his hands. “Like it or not, you're going to need all of us to find those kids.”
Misty gasped at the plural. “How many?”
“Three,” Sam whispered, his gaze locked with Jake's. “And I can do this alone.”
“That's where your wrong, cousin. Do this alone, you’ll die, along with those kids. Besides,” Jake smiled, and my stomach clenched, because that smile had bad news written all over it. “I found the nest—and I won’t show you the location until you agree to let me go with.”
~ ~ ~
By the time we got inside and settled at the dining room table, Jake's announcement hit me. Sam asked the question screaming in my mind.
“How did you find it?”
“Where do you think I've been hiding out? I found the haven mentioned in one of the old journals your dad keeps.” I flinched, forced myself to keep my face neutral. No one else knew I had that guide. “It wasn't hard to find once I got underground.” He glanced at me. “Sorry about her coming after you.”
“Her?” Horror shot through me.
“That was partly my fault. She wasn’t happy I found her, then you all showed up. On the plus side, I know how to chase her out, for good.” We all stared at him, waiting. He seemed to enjoy the captive audience. Until Dad cleared his throat. “Sorry. They hate fire—even the smell of where there's been one. All we have to do is burn her out.”
Interesting—that wasn’t mentioned in the guide. Only the people involved in the basement fire knew about that particular weakness. How did Jake know about it?
“Set a fire,” Candace said. She crossed her arms, giving Jake a glare I never want to be on the wrong end of. “Underground. With three missing kids and our home over our heads. Oh, I forgot—this isn't your home, so you don't care.”
“Would I even be here, Corwin?” He got in her face, and it hit me—they liked each other. Was she in for an unhappy shock. “Anyone with a brain would be running in the other direction.”
“Then start running, wolf boy.” Or maybe not. “We have some kids to save.” She snatched the plans out of my hand and spread them across the table. “You've been down there the most. If you want to help, get us where we need to be.”
Jake smiled. “Stop flirting with me, Corwin.” He bent over the one of Hyattown, then looked up at Sam. “Your call, cousin.”
Sam clenched his fists. “I don’t care if you come with us.” His body language screamed the opposite.
“Okay, then.” Jake scanned the plan, and tapped a spot with his finger. “I found her nest here.” He pointed at one of the tunnels in the sewer. Of course. “She’s in there pretty deep, and the service lights in that tunnel have been smashed. But,” he raised his hand when Dad opened his mouth. “It will only take one of us to set a fire and run—”
“I’m doing it,” Sam said.
The room exploded with objections.
My heart skipped at just the thought of him anywhere near that thing. Dad spoke over everyone’s shouting. “I’ll be the one going in, son.”
“No!” I grabbed his hand. “You can’t—you aren’t even supposed to be here—”
“And where else would I be, when my daughter needs me?”
I covered my face, not able to hold back the tears. Dad pulled me in, his embrace warm and strong. I always felt safe there. Now I wanted to cling, wanted to beg him to leave. And I couldn’t deny it—I wanted to leave with him.
Instead, I sucked in a breath, dug down for the courage that saved me before, and stepped back, wiping at my face. “You’ll need someone to cover your back. I’m volunteering.”
Dad caught my arms. “You are not—”
“And I’ll cover your back,” Misty said. She took my hand, gave me a smile.
“You’re not going anywhere without me, baby sister.” Candace moved to her, bumped her shoulder.
Jake limped over, meeting Candace’s glare with a smile. “I’m up for a meet and greet. Can’t let the ladies have all the fun.”
Sam stared at us. “Why are you doing this?”
“This isn’t your burden to bear, Sam.” Dad let go of me, faced Sam. “Not alone. We all have people we love up here, people we want to protect. And as much as I don’t want any of you involved,�
�� he swept his gaze over all of us, lingering on me before he turned back to Sam. “I’m realizing I can’t do this alone.”
“Jake stays here,” Sam said, the rage on his face so sudden, so shocking, it didn’t look like him. “I can’t trust him—not after what he did to Alex and Misty, going after our neighbor, and attacking Mom—”
“Whoa—wait a minute.” Jake stepped over to Sam—and caught the fist aimed at his face, moving so fast I didn’t see his hand until it held Sam’s fist. “I haven’t changed, Sam, not since your dad chased me off the estate, the day after I—tangled with Alex. And I would never attack Evelyn. I’ve been underground all this time—until I decided to check out what was happening above, and saw Katie being grabbed.” His voice lowered, concern in the dark eyes. “Where did this happen?”
“Like you don’t know!”
“I don’t, Sam.”
Sam backed away, the little color he had in his face fading. “You jumped me, in the cabin, in the dark—Mom shot you twice with the crossbow—”
“Not him,” Candace said. “He may heal faster than the average human, but he doesn’t have even the scars that crossbow bolts would leave.”
Sam looked like he was ready to collapse. I moved toward him, but Dad got there first, easing him into a chair. “Head between your knees, son. It will help with the shock.” Sam obeyed, propping his head in his hands as he bent over. Dad rubbed Sam’s back, and glanced over at me. “Can you get him some juice, Alex?”
I nodded, searching for the kitchen door. Jake took my arm, one hand cradling my elbow. “I’ll show you the way.”
I figured he had another reason, since I could find the door myself. I let him guide me to what turned out to be a huge, country style eat-in kitchen. An old, scarred, absolutely beautiful farmhouse table stretched across the open floor, mismatched wood chairs painted in different, faded colors surrounding it. Mom would cry, then covet the entire kitchen, starting with that table.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Jake moved to the huge, double door refrigerator, pulled out an individual size bottle of orange juice. “This should help him—”
“You really weren’t there, were you?”
“I do remember what happens to me when I—change.” He turned away from me, staring out the window over the deep, stainless steel kitchen sink. “I was still licking my wounds when Evelyn was attacked. Sam used silver nitrate and a silver walking stick to stop me when I was stalking you, and it took some time to recover.”
I had a feeling that was what Sam flung at him. “I was there,” I whispered. “I saw what happened to Sam’s mom. He was devastated, thinking you had done it.”
Jake let out a sigh, turned around. “I knew something was up, the way he avoided me. I couldn’t get him alone long enough to ask.” He lifted the orange juice. “Let’s go take this in to him.”
“Did you attack Sam ten years ago?” I slapped one hand over my mouth. The words flew out before I could stop them. “Oh, God—I didn’t meant to—I’m sorry—”
“Stop, Alex.” He pulled my hand down, closed his fingers around it. Hard callouses pressed into my skin. “I didn’t. It took me months to recover from the attack. The beast nearly tore me apart. You’ll have to ask him. I do know he was attacked around this time of year, just a couple weeks after me. I think it was the day before Halloween.”
“That would be—today,” I whispered.
He tightened his grip on my hand. “Watch him, close. If we share the same attacker, he could get ugly at any time. So far he hasn’t changed, but his temper spikes, and he becomes unpredictable.”
I swallowed, met his eyes, to prove I could. He scared me, and not just because of what was just under the human surface. But he also saved Katie, and came pretty close to getting dead in the process. To say my feelings were mixed would be a massive understatement.
“Alex!” Dad’s voice broke our staring contest.
“Coming!” I pulled out of his grip. “Please don’t say anything to Sam.”
“Our little secret, sweetheart. Here, you’re going to want this.” He moved forward, and held out the bottle of orange juice. I snatched it out of his hand and backed across the kitchen. “Don’t let him fool you, Alex. Sam’s not just your average rich boy hunk. Hasn’t been since the day he got slashed open.”
I nodded, and fled to the safety of the dining room.
Sam looked better. At least his face had a little color. I handed him the orange juice and retreated, Jake's words echoing in my head. I wanted to trust Sam—had to trust him once we were underground.
Dad crouched next to Sam. Candace stood on his other side, checking his pulse, and generally fussing over him. I decided to do something useful, instead of hovering like an unwanted groupie.
Moving to the table, I studied the town plan, checking for possible exits, bolt holes, dead ends—anything that could work for us, or against us. The town itself was a nightmare of winding streets, and alleys that led nowhere. I just hoped the sewers weren't as bad.
I pulled the map Katie gave me out of my back pocket and spread it out on the table.
“Where did you get that?” Dad joined me, bending over the sewer map. “This is brilliant—it even shows the direction of the water flow.” He looked at me. “Where did this come from?”
“The little girl Jake saved? Her dad is John Hyatt. She had the map with her when we pulled her out of the sewer.”
“His family must have built the original sewers.” Dad turned the map over. “Here—the cartographer's mark. I bet he was related to the Hyatts. We just might be able to do this.”
He took out one of the pencils he always kept on him and with Jake’s input started making notes on the map. I wasn't as optimistic, but between the map and Jake, we might have a chance.
~ ~ ~
Sam led us to the garage, and we stared in awe at the selection of weapons hanging on the wall. Sam opened one of the long cabinets underneath and pulled out six duffle bags. “Everything we need is here,” he said. “It’s been a long time since my parents had to—use anything, but they kept our supplies current and fresh. Just in case.”
He looked defeated, even before we started. I wanted to reassure him, but I wasn’t all that sure of us at this point. The one who surprised me was Misty.
“Come on—we have kids to find, and some monster ass to kick!” She bounced over to the cabinets, patting Sam’s cheek. “Smile, Sam. We’re the good guys.”
“Okay.” I limped over to her. I was going to have to do something about my ankle before we left. “Who are you and where did you bury the real Misty?”
She laughed, and started looking through the cabinets, pulling out enough supplies to last a week. “We need to be prepared for anything down there.” She glanced at me, then at Dad, lowering her voice. “How's the ankle?”
“It'll do.”
“Have Candace look at it. She'll fix you up, without letting your dad know.”
“Thanks.” It ached, in a way that wouldn't let me ignore it anymore.
“Is it . . .” Misty's gaze found her sister. “Is it freaking you out that Candace, um, likes Jake?”
Misty certainly looked freaked out. I honestly didn't know what to think. Jake had become less of a bad guy the more I got to know him, but he still scared me.
I shrugged, hoping it would be enough for her. I wanted to kiss Dad for interrupting at that moment. “Everyone has their own supplies, in case we get separated. Five minutes until we go. Alex,” he took my arm. “I need a minute.”
I tried not to limp as he guided me to the other end of the garage. I would have been fine if it weren't so stinking big.
“I'm not staying behind, Dad. I'll follow you down if you don't—”
“I would feel better if you stayed above ground, I won't lie about that. But I’d rather have you with me than sneaking after us, on your own. Now,” he rubbed my back, his attempt to calm me welcome. “I want Candace to take a look at your ankle. You can sit in ba
ck with her.” He slipped his arm around my waist. “I'd say letting you do this takes me out of the running for father of the year.”
I smiled. Coolest dad ever. Even though part of me did wish he'd forbid me to go.
We loaded up with anything that could burn or create fire, along with a selection of weapons that, if we were stopped by police, would have us in jail before we could even try to explain. Candace grabbed the impressively stocked first aid kit, and the entire box of protein bars, along with enough water to keep us all floating.
Sam started shoving the full duffle bags in his SUV. It still wore the battle scars from our last confrontation with the monster. I swallowed, pushed that image out of my mind.
Candace paused next to me. “Sit with me, and I'll take a look at your ankle.”
I nodded, my ankle throbbing in response. I really didn't want to see it.
“Let's get out of here,” Sam said. He pulled the leather tie out of his hair and climbed into the driver’s seat, so grim, like he was headed into his final battle. It hurt to see him like that.
Candace helped me into the third row. Misty took shotgun before anyone could call it, leaving Dad and Jake in the second row, in front of us.
“Can you lift your leg up?” I did, obviously impressing Candace with my flexibility. “Let me take a stab. Dancer?”
“Since I was six.”
“It probably kept you from hurting yourself worse. I'm going to get this monstrosity you call a shoe off, and we'll see what we're dealing with.” She eased off my motorcycle boot. I sucked in a harsh breath, nodded for her to keep going. My ace bandage hid most of the damage. “Not your first ankle twist.”
“Occupational hazard.” I clenched my jaw, every touch inflaming my already irritated ankle. I cringed when she finished unwrapping it. The bruising was worse than I remembered.
“Let me guess.” Her clipped voice had me flinching. “No ice, and you've been walking on it since it was injured.”
“Um—not by choice. I've been a little preoccupied.” I sounded defensive. I felt defensive. I usually took much better care of my injuries, learning from the example of dancers who didn't. “I don't normally—ouch—”
