by Cate Dean
Peer ridicule—always a good reason to keep your mouth shut.
I watched her squeal out to the street. Dad’s truck rumbled to life behind me, and followed her, at a more responsible pace. I waved at them, and headed for my car.
I didn’t park under one of the few lights dotting the good sized parking lot, so I was almost on top of it before I saw the damage. The two front tires were flat.
“Damn it—” I crouched, pulling the flashlight out of my pocket and snapping it on. My heart skipped when the beam flashed over the tires. They had been chewed on. Like a giant dog’s play toy.
I stood, putting my back to the car. This part of town rolled up its sidewalks after five p.m. I was alone, surrounded by a parking lot, and locked government buildings.
Swallowing, I inched along the side of the car. My left hand pressed against the cool surface, and I was grateful for the solid comfort of it at my back. I glanced down when I reached the back tire. It had been chewed to rubber oblivion. My hand met empty space and I froze. My trunk was open.
I scanned the parking lot for any movement, then risked a quick look down. The trunk was empty, the crossbow I’d stashed there gone.
“Oh, God,” I whispered. I had to get out of here.
Turning off the flashlight I’d stupidly left on, I waited endless seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Part of me—the big, screaming part of me—didn’t want to leave the safety of having the car between me and Jake. But I couldn’t stay here. Jake wouldn’t hesitate, not even with the potential of an audience if I made it to the more social part of downtown. He proved that the first time by going after me in broad daylight.
I left the trunk open, since it would draw attention if anyone happened to drive by. With my heart pounding so hard it hurt my chest, I inched forward. Losing the car as a shield left me feeling exposed. My hand gripped the flashlight, its heavy duty casing my only weapon.
The tapping of claws on cement froze me. It came from behind, and those claws sounded big. Like Jake as a hairy nightmare big.
I started moving, faster now, and got to the sidewalk without being jumped or having the heart attack I could feel coming on. It was only half a mile to my house, but it might as well have been ten. If Jake was stalking me, he had my scent from our first encounter. He could follow me anywhere, take me down at any time. And he did enjoy playing with his food.
I kept moving, simply because there was nothing else for me to do. If I could get in screaming distance of my neighborhood I might have a chance. That gave Jake five blocks to attack me before I could expect help.
I jerked as the wind picked up, rustling the trees that lined practically every street. Fantastic. That would obscure the spine-crawling sound of his claws that dogged me with every step.
I hugged the trees, moving down the sidewalk as quickly and quietly as possible. The wind did help cover my noise—but it also blew my scent straight at my stalker.
The more I thought, the more I panicked, the faster I moved. Jake could be deadly silent. Why he chose to let me know he stalked me was a question I wanted to survive to ask—
A sharp crack spun me around. Something big broke a heavy branch. Just behind me. The wind shifted and I got a whiff of sewer. Of wet fur. My hand shook against the flashlight.
I backed up against the closest tree, fought to control my breathing. Over the wind, I heard it. Nails tapping on cement. Coming from my left.
With a silent prayer I pushed off the tree and bolted in the opposite direction.
The inhuman scream nearly stopped my heart.
I pushed for more speed, literally running for my life now. I heard my pursuit behind me, no longer quiet. I skidded around the corner, raced down the first street of my neighborhood. I could scream for help now—but what would happen to the person who came out to assist?
Unable to stand not knowing how much distance I had on Jake, I risked a quick glance behind me. And almost stumbled in shock.
Something big and black came at me. A flat yellow light pulsed in the middle of its chest and spilled on the sidewalk in front of it, lighting its way. The edge of that light was only inches from my feet. With a raw gasp I surged forward. Another scream echoed behind me.
The last corner did me in.
I tripped over the huge tree root buckling the sidewalk. A tree root I’ve hopped over without thinking about for years. Momentum threw me to the sidewalk, and I rolled, the flashlight flying out of my hand. I tried to get to my feet, letting out a hoarse cry when my left ankle caved under my weight.
Scrambling backward, I watched the hulk rush at me. We both screamed. I reached for the white picket fence next to me, hoping I had enough time and strength to climb over and hide in the Hennessey’s wild English garden—
Headlights spilled over us as a car swerved around the corner. Neon green eyes flashed in the light, staring at me with such hate it lodged my breath in my throat.
“Alex!” Dad’s shout snapped my head around. I hugged the fence as he aimed his truck straight at my attacker.
The creature shrieked, tried for one last grab at me. I ducked, feeling claws snag the shoulder of my hoodie. The roar of the truck drowned out everything as it jumped the sidewalk. I clutched the picket fence, shaking so badly my body rattled the wood.
Dad bolted out of the truck, raising the shotgun in his hands as he tore around the hood. Wait—a shotgun? Why did my passive dad have a shotgun?
A final scream echoed in the darkness, far enough away that I knew it was retreating.
“Alex.” Dad crouched next to me, laid the shotgun on the sidewalk. “Look at me.”
I obeyed, meeting his furious blue eyes. “Dad . . .”
He scooped me up and carried me to the passenger side of the truck. After settling me in the seat, he ran around the front, grabbed the shotgun and slid into the driver’s side, backing the truck off the sidewalk.
Not a single person came out to investigate. My neighbors, who were nosier than any gossip rag, would have been on this like white on rice.
We drove the short way to the house, and Dad pulled into the driveway, parking behind Mom’s car. Before I could say a word he reached over and pulled me into his arms. “Alex.” He whispered against my hair, and I realized he was shaking almost as much as I was. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” I leaned back enough to look at him. “How did you know?”
“I was almost home when I heard the scream.” He closed his eyes, swallowing before he faced me again. “It nearly stopped my heart. When I didn’t see your car in front of the house, I knew.”
“You heard the scream?” He nodded, rubbing my back. Slowly, I started to calm, the rush of adrenaline fading. “Why were you the only one?”
“Good question.” He’d noticed the lack of an audience, too. “Did you see what was after you?”
“Yeah.” I huddled deeper into his arms, holding on to him. “And we have a big problem, because it wasn’t Jake.”
12
Dad talked his way around Mom’s inevitable questions, telling her a story about taking me to county records for a school project. Mostly not a lie. Not that it made me feel any better—we were still leaving out some rather important facts.
Like I was being stalked by a green-eyed monster. Yeah—that would go over well.
I explained away the limp with another lie—that I twisted it in dance class. A dance class I didn’t actually have, since I was out for the season.
I limped up to my room, with Dad’s help, after he convinced Mom I was fine, just on information overload. Now that one was true. Absolutely.
He brushed his hand over my hair. “Can I do anything?”
I lowered myself to the bed, looked up at Dad, his arms crossed, worry in his eyes. I tried for a smile. It didn’t work. “Not really. I just need to sleep. Right after I call Sam.”
“No, Alex.” My hand paused over my cell phone. “If you call him tonight, he’ll just go after the thing himself. Am
I wrong?”
I rubbed my face. “I wish you were. I have to tell him, Dad. His parents might know what it is. Sam might even know. Even if they don’t, they need to be warned.” I clutched the edge of the bed as my muscles finally unclenched, letting me know loud and clear how much I ached, everywhere. “Where did you get a shotgun?”
He smiled, not surprised by my question. He was obviously waiting for it. “I bought it after one of the work sites was vandalized. I keep it in my truck, just in case. I have a permit for it, Alex, so stop worrying.”
“And you know how to use it?”
“Weekly sessions at the police academy firing range.”
Wow—how did I miss this militant side of my own dad? Not that I was complaining. He came roaring out of the darkness like the cavalry, just when I needed him.
“You heard the—creature scream,” I said, searching for a way to say the next words without panicking myself. “Why didn’t any of the neighbors? They should have been converging like rabid paparazzi. But there was nothing.”
He pushed off the door frame, came and sat next to me on the bed. “I want you out of this. Tonight was it for you, do you hear me?” He shocked me when he punched the bed, so hard I bounced off the mattress. Then he grabbed me and pulled me into his arms. “You scared the hell out of me tonight. I was afraid I wouldn’t get to you in time. I don’t ever want to feel that helpless again. Do you understand?” He leaned back, meeting my eyes. “You tell Sam tomorrow that you are out. Give him what information you think he should have, then walk away.”
The thought of walking away from Sam hurt like a blow to my heart. “Dad—”
“I know how much you care about him, Alex. But he is up to his neck in whatever’s going on, and I don’t want you anywhere near it.”
“So—you’re forbidding me from seeing someone I consider a friend. Forbidding me.”
“Got it in one.”
“What if I say no?”
Dad stood, marching to the door. “Then we can talk about a nice, long grounding.”
“What?” I had never been grounded. Never. I wasn’t stupid enough to do something that would even get me there. Not with dance class, and the sense of freedom I enjoyed. “You can’t—”
“If it keeps you safe, Alex, I can, and I will. Now get ready for bed. Mom is making up a tray for you, since we both missed dinner. I’ll have your car towed tomorrow, the tires replaced.”
“Dad—”
“This discussion is over, young lady.”
He closed the door after him. I stared at it, stunned, still trying to let what just happened compute.
I had to tell Sam I couldn’t see him anymore, or I would be grounded.
I actually had to say the word grounded out loud.
I couldn’t tell Sam—it hurt just to think about. How would I actually get the words to come out of my mouth?
I fell face down on the bed, and groaned at the contact. I knew I would be bruised from my desperate flight. My ankle throbbed in agreement. Right now I wanted to crawl under my comforter and forget, just for a few hours.
Forget that I would have to shut Sam out of my life. Forever.
~ ~ ~
My aches kept waking me up. I finally stopped trying to sleep about three a.m., since all the restless moving made my body ache more.
Easing out of bed, every movement stiff, I limped over to my desk and sat, picking up the grilled cheese sandwich Mom made for me. It was cold, but tasty.
The first bite brought my appetite roaring back. I finished off the sandwich, then started on the family size bag of salt and vinegar chips, my favorite. Mom left a big bottle of water to go with them. The food revived me, and though I still hurt every time I moved, it was bearable.
The food also jumpstarted my brain. Which meant I wouldn’t be getting any more sleep.
Going with a thought that had been poking at me since the surprising discovery of Hyattown, I wheeled my chair over to my laptop, Red, and booted her up. I opened a search window, typed in folklore, and let the search run while I opened another window. This time I searched urban legends. In a third window I searched mythical creatures. Then I started opening sites, and comparing.
Running a program that grabbed specific keywords off the open sites, I let it extract while I read about golems, the real Bloody Mary, Sasquatch, the Jersey Devil—along with the usual suspects that fill horror stories.
Buried in the myths and stories, I started to find common threads, coincidences that wouldn’t let me go. I started printing relevant pages, sorting them into piles. By the time I finished, the program had spit out its results, and it was close to six a.m.
I didn’t need to export the information to tell me what I already found, but I did it, creating a simple Excel spreadsheet. Just to have, in case.
All the possible answers I had hoped to heaven weren’t there sat in front of me, in neat piles. Undisputable, and if I was right, a whole ream of bad news.
13
I limped through the halls at school the next day, my ankle wrapped and hurting, the rest of me seriously sore. My hoodie hid most of the bruises, and borrowing some of Mom’s mineral powder helped blur the marks on my face from tripping over the tree root. I didn’t notice that damage until I looked in the bathroom mirror this morning. Trying to cover it up made me late to school.
And I also got a reprieve; Sam was out for the day. What I didn’t brace myself for was Misty’s exuberant greeting. In the cafeteria, in the middle of lunch. I thought her fellow cheerleaders were going to faint from embarrassment.
“Alex! Over here!” She waved madly from her table, like I couldn’t see her from three feet away. “Come and sit with us!”
She didn’t give me much choice, inviting me in front of half the school. I carried my tray over, setting it down in front of the only empty chair. The girls on either side scooted their chairs away. Nice welcome.
“Thanks for the invite, Misty, but I’m not really up for conversation.”
I picked up my tray and turned around, no longer caring that everyone stared at me as I limped past. Yes, I wanted to shout, the techno geek stood up the cheerleader, ruined her chance at the populars table. Get over it.
I heard Misty whisper loudly to her friends, and then the scrape of a chair. Fabulous—she was following me.
“Alex!” I kept going, dumping my untouched lunch in the trash can at the door and dropping my tray on the table next to it before I hobbled out of the cafeteria. Stepping into the intersecting hallway, I waited. “Alex, I wanted to . . . Alex?” Her bouncing steps echoed in the empty hallway. “Where did you—”
“Here.” I stepped out behind her, and watched her jump at my voice. She spun, her long blonde hair whipping around her. “What do you want, Misty?”
“To make sure you were okay, after—you know.”
“And you were going to ask me that, in front of your friends.”
“No—I was going to have a polite conversation, and observe. You screwed up that idea, with a flourish.” Her sarcasm startled a laugh out of me. Misty smiled; it faded as she took my arm, and pushed me into the nearest classroom, closing the door to give us privacy. “Look—I know you don’t think I’m the brightest bulb, but I’m not stupid.”
“I realized that some time ago.”
Surprise flared in her sky blue eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. I guessed it was probably the first time in her school career that someone told her to her face she was smart. Stereotypes can really suck. “I, um,” she cleared her throat, still obviously overwhelmed by my comment. “I also wanted to let you know why Sam isn’t here today.”
Dread shot through me. “Why?”
“Nothing bad—I didn’t mean to scare you. His mom had to go in for some x-rays, so he took her to the medical center in Irvine. He left a text on my phone.”
And not on mine. That hurt, squeezing my already vulnerable heart.
“Thanks for letting me know. I have to get to class, so I�
��ll—”
“You really do like him, don’t you?”
I froze at the door. How I wished it was only like. “It doesn’t matter. If you talk to him, tell him I . . .” Swallowing, I forced the next words out. “Tell him I don’t want to see him anymore.”
I yanked the door open and limp-ran down the hall, heading for the front door. I had to get out of here, before I started crying in front of everyone.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Misty grabbed my arm. I fought her, but I didn’t have the strength, not after last night. She took me where I wanted to go anyway—out the door and to the parking lot. “You may be fabulous at everything else you try, but you are a lousy liar.”
I stared at her. Until we were forced to work together, she barely knew I existed. Didn’t she?
Before my common sense could stop me, I blurted out what happened last night. Misty listened, holding my hand tight when the tears started.
Now that I had distance, the absolute terror of the chase shook me to the core. At the time all I could think about was getting away. That single focus probably—no, it saved my life. Period.
Once I finished, Misty led me over to her car and tucked me in the passenger seat. She joined me, sliding behind the wheel, and starting the car. “Wait,” I cleared my throat, wiping at the tears blurring my eyes. “Where are you—”
“Sam.”
“No—” Panic flared through the emotional tangle. “I can’t—”
“He needs to know, Alex.” Misty’s firm voice dropped my jaw. She sounded like someone in charge. Maybe this was the kicking butt and taking names tone she used with the cheerleading squad. It certainly got my attention. “If Jake isn’t the only monster out there, Sam needs to be warned, since his family is neck deep in this mess. And I can’t believe I just uttered a sentence with the word monster in it.” She flashed me one of her brilliant smiles. “Being friends with you is never boring.”
