Alex Finch_Monster Hunter

by Cate Dean

  “Just—finish it.”

  He nodded, and kept going. Misty draped her arm over my shoulders, and I gripped her hand, tight. She didn’t make a sound, even though I knew it must have hurt.

  Finally, he did the last suture and leaned back, wiping at the sweat on his forehead. I saw his fingers shaking, and realized he was nervous.

  Now that the deed was done, my distraction was gone, and my mind began its wild speculations again. What was he doing at the McGinty house? It had been no coincidence that he showed up in time to keep Misty and me from becoming an afternoon snack. And how did an eighteen year old learn how to suture like a pro?

  Yeah, eighteen. I like older men. I am a junior—okay, the youngest junior at Emmettsville High. So I skipped a grade, or three. Stop judging me.

  Sam wrapped a bandage around my forearm, and taped it off. The tingles were less—tingly. I was getting used to him touching me. How would I face tomorrow, knowing it wouldn’t happen again?

  His quiet voice pulled me out of my pity party. “How does that feel?”

  “Better.” I stared at his hand, afraid every emotion racing around my heart would show on my face. “Thanks.”

  “Anytime.” If only he meant that. “Ready to go upstairs?”

  “Yeah.” I do happen to be a sparkling conversationalist. Just not around Sam.

  “Up you go,” Misty said. She helped me stand—and my legs decided it was nap time. “Whoa—”

  Sam caught me—and my heart stopped when he picked me up in his arms. I thought it would pound right out of my chest and smack him in the face when he carried me upstairs, settled me carefully on my bed.

  “Get some sleep, Alex. We’ll wait for your mom.”

  “No—what—” I tried to sit up. It didn’t take much effort for him to stop me. “Why—”

  “We’ll tell her you had an accident just after school. I’ll make sure she understands you’re okay.”

  I nodded. Mom would go into full nurse mode no matter what they told her. As long as I kept her from seeing the stitches, and the bruises, and the scrapes, I think I could keep the fussing to a minimum. The disadvantage of being an only child.

  Hell, I’d be wearing long sleeves for weeks. Thank heaven for my hoodies. And the fact that fall was here. I never could have pulled this off during summer vacation.

  Sam straightened, checking my bandage one last time. The pain killers he gave me must have kicked in, because I opened my mouth and my self-preservation filter failed.

  “How did you get the scars on your shoulder?”

  He stilled. What looked like panic flashed in his grey-blue eyes—it disappeared before I could be sure.

  “Old injury. I’ll tell you the story, when you’re not drugged and looking like a sea nymph—”

  He cut himself off. This time I didn’t mistake the shock.

  “A sea nymph?” I knew what it was—my brain just wasn’t functioning at the moment.

  “A beautiful creature that lures men to their death—shit.” He backed away from the bed. “How do you do that? I’ve never told anyone . . . I have to get out of here.”

  He turned around—and halted when he saw Misty in the doorway, her blue eyes wide.

  “Hey,” she said. Her gaze skated back and forth, and I saw the beginning of juicy gossip forming in her mind. Crap. “Your mom’s pulling in the driveway, Alex. Thought I’d give you a heads up.” She raised her eyebrows as she looked at Sam.

  “Right,” he said. He walked past her, his shoulders stiff. I figured that was the last word I’d hear from him. Ever. But he turned around, staring at the wall behind me. “This never happened, Alex. Tell anyone anything and I will deny it. That includes you, Misty. Nothing happened.” He finally met my eyes, and the pain in his usually clear eyes stunned me. “And it won’t happen again. I promise you.”

  He walked out before I could answer.

  ~ ~ ~

  Mom treated me like I was a soldier coming back from the war—which in a way, I was.

  She insisted on examining every inch of me, cursing over each tiny and not so tiny injury. The cover story that I flipped over my bike explained away my injuries—I was just glad I’d left my bike at school, because it would have revealed the lie, being as pristine as the day I bought it a year ago with my hard-earned savings, as a replacement for the mountain bike I pretty much destroyed.

  “And where is your bike, Margaret?” I managed not to flinch at my given name. It was a warning: Mom wasn’t completely convinced. “You didn’t leave it at school? Even damaged, such an expensive bike would be a temptation.”

  “My friends took it to the shop for me. I look worse than my bike—it just got a few scratches.” I tried on a smile. “It’ll look good as new tomorrow.” Yeah—laying another lie on top of the massive one I’d already told. Might as well go for the gold.

  “I’m afraid you won’t be as lucky.” Mom let out a sigh, sat back in the chair she’d dragged next to my bed. “If you need to stay home tomorrow, I can call school for you.” She brushed damp hair off my forehead. “I want you to promise me, sweetheart, that you will be extra vigilant from now on. My poor heart can’t take another shock like this.”

  From Margaret to sweetheart in less than a minute. A good sign—she wasn’t mad at me. Being a tomboy with a girly mom, we share, I’ll just say, a different view of approaching pretty much everything. It makes for an interesting life. At least from my side. Mom just clutches her chest if it’s beyond her understanding.

  Really—I’m a tomboy, not a boy. Just because I like motorcycle boots more than heels doesn’t make me . . . sorry. Anyway, I skated through what could have been a long and unpleasant conversation.

  One parent hoodwinked. Check. Second parent would be taken care of by parent one. Check.

  Next on my list: prying the truth out of Sam.

  Which meant I would have to talk to him again. Yeah. My tongue already started to tie itself into a knot at just the idea.

  3

  The next day at school was so normal it was—abnormal.

  Life went on like I’d never seen a hairy, razor-clawed, seven foot—yes, I’ll say it here—monster.

  Misty bopped around like nothing happened. She didn’t even have a visible scratch to show for her part in the adventure/trauma. Though she did move slower than her normal bounce, and had her glorious hair in a bun, to hide the ragged hunk I had to hack off to free her from the windowsill. Probably not enough time to make an appointment with her stylist.

  And Sam? He was AWOL. Which left me out in the cold, needing answers, and—swear you won’t repeat this—I needed to see him. Needed to know yesterday wasn’t a dream, or a hallucination.

  So I floated through the day, high on ibuprofen, the stitches in my arm itching like a bad rash.

  And I almost dropped my bike, scraping it up for real, when I saw him parked on the street outside school, leaning against his SUV. He pushed off as soon as he saw me. I swallowed, my heart doing a fast rhumba in my chest. Dancer, remember?

  “How are you, Alex? You look better.” He sounded eager to please, and that put my BS meter on high alert. “Can I give you a ride home? We can just throw your bike in—”

  “Why did you ditch school?”

  That threw him—enough that he took more than a few seconds to answer. “Family business.” He ran one hand through his hair, stared at the ground. “Can we talk?”

  “On one condition.” He hunched his shoulders, like he already knew the condition I was about to dump on him. “You tell me the truth.”

  With a sigh, he looked up, met my eyes. The remorse in his almost hid his despair. “I can’t. I’m sorry, Alex—for everything. But there are some things I can’t talk about. I made a promise.”

  “Can you at least tell me what happened yesterday? And how I can avoid it in the future?”

  To my surprise, he laughed. “Yeah—some of it.” I’d have to be happy with some. Any information was better than the scenarios
that has been running through my head. The curse of an overactive imagination. “Come on,” he said, moving to the back of the SUV. “I’ll stash your bike. We need to go somewhere private. Where we can’t possibly be overheard.”

  My heart switched from rhumba to a fast and furious tap number. Alone, with Sam. Again. I hoped my brain would keep functioning enough to hold a coherent conversation.

  “Okay,” I mumbled.

  Oh, yeah. Fantastic start.

  ~ ~ ~

  Sam drove us to the park on the edge of town.

  The park where seniors go to make out every weekend.

  I tried not to think about that—a little easier, since it was broad daylight, and I was not in a making out mood. Yeah, you’d think I would be, with the stunning Sam Emmett sitting next to me, all muscular and smelling like grass. I love that smell, clean and fresh, and it’s always been associated with him. I’ve spent a lot of time face down in grass.

  So not a substitute for the real thing.

  He pulled up behind one of the huge oaks, so the SUV sat in the shade, and out of sight of the access road. I forced myself to hold his gaze when he looked at me.

  “I want to tell you again how sorry I am for yesterday. It was my fault—Jake was my responsibility, and I let him get away from me.”

  “Jake . . .” The light bulb went on. “Wait—your cousin Jake? The one who got shipped off to the—” I managed to stop myself before I blurted out insane asylum. But I might as well have shouted it; Sam’s reaction probably would have been the same.

  He stared at the steering wheel, both hands clenched so tight his knuckles threatened to pop out of his skin. “You can say it. Everyone does. There was a reason for the—cover story.” He finally looked back at me, all the color gone from his face. “Jake is—oh, hell. Jake is the one who attacked you yesterday.”

  He said it in a rush. Part of me completely expected it—that didn’t mean I wasn’t shocked. Or that I actually believed him.

  “So, let me get this straight.” Yes, add in the sarcastic tone. I certainly did. “Your cousin, who has been in the nuthouse for ten years, was the seven foot hairy nightmare that attacked me yesterday. What kind of pills are they feeding him?”

  Sam rubbed his face with one hand, the other still hanging on to the steering wheel. Like a lifeline. “He never went to the nuthouse, as you so graciously termed it.” I flinched, deserving the snit in his voice. “He was attacked ten years ago, in broad daylight, just like you. Only he was bitten, and clawed to pieces—so badly we thought we’d lose him. Instead, he . . .” Sam swallowed, kept looking at me. “Changed.” Sweat slipped down his face. “It only happens when he loses his temper, or when he feels threatened in some way. And on the anniversary of his attack. Which was yesterday.”

  I jumped out of the car before I could make a smart-ass comment. My left arm throbbed, competing with the constant itch for my attention. Cradling it, I headed for the path leading through the tiny forest and back to town.

  “Alex!” Sam caught up with me before I reached the trees. “Please—you have to believe me.”

  “Why?” I turned on him, angry and terrified fighting to be on top. “Because I saw something in the McGinty house? Because I was attacked by what was probably a big, feral dog?” Who could stand upright and track like a hunter. Keep on believing the lie, Alex.

  “You saw him. You know better.” Sam refused to let me avoid. Gripping my upper arms, careful of my injury, he leaned in until I could see the pale gold flecks in his grey-blue eyes. “You have to believe, Alex. Because there’s no going back from this.”

  “What—what are you talking about?” This whole conversation just took a turn I didn’t see coming—a scary, I-should-have-stayed-in-bed turn. “All I did was run for my life—”

  “You saw him.” Sam let out a sigh. And I knew, in that moment, my life was about to change. “That makes you a danger to my family.”

  “Whoa—wait a minute. ME? What about your hairy, seven foot cousin? I’m not going around trying to eat innocent people—”

  “No—you just saw what was trying to eat innocent people.”

  “And Misty? What are you going to do to her?” Panic had my voice jumping into eardrum-bursting range. “Or is she exempt, because she’s one of you?”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “One of the populars, one of the pretty people. Not a geek, like me.” I jerked free, surprised he let me go.

  “Alex.” That quiet voice left goose bumps on my skin. I kept staring at the ground, focusing on the scratches that marked my boots. I really needed to pull out the leather polish again— “I always admired your geek side.”

  I wanted to clean out my ears, have him repeat that. Several times. So I could record it.

  “You—the beloved athlete. You . . . admire me?” My voice went all squeaky at the end. Sam smiled, and my knees just wanted to go, right there. I locked them in place, to keep from making a complete fool of myself.

  “You’re the smartest girl in school. You kind of intimidate me, Alex.”

  Okay—I had to sit down after that revelation. My legs wouldn’t let me do anything else.

  Sam knelt down next to me. I clutched at the ground, because my world had just lost any sense of balance.

  “Alex? Are you all right?”

  “Peachy,” I whispered. My voice got stronger as indignation slowly overrode shock. “It’s just awesome discovering that everything you believed about someone you—” Loved, lusted after, worshipped— “Someone you’d known most of your life was a big fat lie.”

  “Sarcasm always was one of your strengths.” He stood, and I fully expected him to just walk away, leave me here, weighted down with the truth. Instead, he held out his hand. “Come on.” I stared at it, then at him. A smile tugged at his lips. “I won’t eat you. That’s Jake’s gig.” A laugh escaped before I could prevent it, and the smile appeared. “I’ll just stalk you until you believe me.”

  That would be a change. I’ve been stalking him for years. He just never noticed.

  “Fine.” I took his hand, let him help me up. Actually, I needed the help. My muscles were complaining about yesterday’s antics. Loudly and with great feeling. “But I’m not joining any cult, or drinking blood out of a dead baby skull.”

  Laughter burst out of him. “Where did you get those?”

  “Late night monster movie marathon.” And my incredibly overactive imagination. Did I say my mom was wrong?

  Once I knew I wouldn’t keel over, I pulled my hand out of his. Yes, I did. I must have been temporarily insane.

  “Alex—”

  “I really have to get home. My parents are worried enough already.”

  I moved as I talked, faster with each step, until I was running. Sam paced me, not even breathing hard.

  He caught my right arm just before I doubled over the cramp in my side. Man—those hurt. I don’t get them very often. It also told me I still had some recovery time in my future.

  He waited until I straightened, then turned me to face him. “I know this is a lot of information coming at you, most of it on the unbelievable scale. But I needed you to know, so you didn’t think you were crazy, or hallucinating. And I . . . I really needed to tell someone. Someone I could trust.”

  My heart started doing the rhumba. Sam trusted me. Me.

  I took a deep breath, tried to sound normal, casual. “Jake hasn’t been home long, has he?”

  Sam flinched when I asked. “No.”

  “And you were his babysitter yesterday.” He nodded, refusing to look at me. “Nice job.”

  His smile eased some of the guilt I felt for putting him through this. If I hadn’t been so pissy about getting the backpack . . .

  Some other innocent sap would have been attacked. Maybe killed. At least I took that off his plate. It was full enough.

  “He was supposed to be drug—asleep.”

  “My advice? Up the dosage.”

  This time he laughed, a
nd the thrill I got from it left me tingly again. Crap. He studied me, the laughter, and then the smile fading. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”

  “What if I forget? Or at least pretend to?” My heart started doing the rhumba again, but for a different reason. “This doesn’t have to go any further—”

  “My parents know.” Sam studied me, those grey-blue eyes dark. “I’m sorry, Alex. You have to come with me.”

  “I—what?” I started to back away, braced to run if I had to. “There’s no need—”

  “To talk. That’s all. They want to be sure you understand. That you won’t spread—rumors.”

  I jumped from scared to insulted.

  “How long have we known each other, Sam?” I crossed my arms. A side benefit of not having close friends is you don’t get disappointed very often. Sam just dumped enough on me to cover the rest of high school. “I’m not like them. And you damn well know it.” I also don’t curse often. At least, not out loud.

  “My parents don’t.” He ran one hand through his hair. “Look—I already talked to Misty, which was good enough for them. But they don’t know you, and they want to be sure you get how serious this is. You’ll be home before dark. I promise.”

  I took that to mean I wouldn’t be sacrificed for the greater good. At least, not tonight. Who knew what they may have planned after this little talk.

  “Fine.” I waited for him to move, and followed after. I didn’t want him at my back.

  It hurt to even think, but I no longer trusted him. I stared at his left shoulder, almost seeing the long, narrow scars through his t-shirt. Part of me knew—though I wanted to deny it, repeatedly—that Sam hadn’t told me everything.

  Cousin Jake wasn’t the only one attacked that fateful day ten years ago.

  4

  His parents waited for us on the huge front porch of the family mansion.

  I was as nervous as a girl on her meet-the-parents date. Only this wasn’t a date, and this meet with the parents could very well end with me never being heard from again.