Alex Finch: Monster Hunter

by Cate Dean

An old cabin appeared as we rounded a sharp bend, sitting in the middle of a field, surrounded by weeds and not much else.

  “Park behind that tree.” Mrs. Emmett—Evelyn pointed to a huge oak just off the road on the left.

  I eased over the uneven ground, flinching every time my poor car bottomed out. Stopping behind the wide trunk, I shut down, and watched her arm the crossbow. I recognized it from the day they went after Jake. Up close it looked even more medieval, and downright blood chilling.

  She touched my arm. “Stay here.” Something on her face told me she was expecting more than Sam in that cabin.

  “You don’t think—Sam hasn’t—”

  “You know about that?”

  I swallowed, wanting to take the words back. I kept digging myself deeper, when all I wanted was to get out. “I saw the scars on his shoulder. Sam didn’t tell me,” I said in a rush, so she didn’t blame him for any confidentiality breach. “I guessed.”

  “Sam told me you were smart.” Heat flared across my face. “Stay here, and if you see anything come out of there besides me or Sam, you take off. Understood?”

  I nodded, my throat closing up. I watched her skirt around the oak, running in a crouch like a soldier, keeping under the sight lines of the front windows, and I wondered how long she had been doing things like this. Both she and Mr. Emmett were too well equipped, and much too familiar with their weapons for this to be a new hobby.

  Gripping the steering wheel with one hand, I had my other on the key, my foot on the clutch, ready to turn it on at a moment’s notice. My heart pounded so hard it drowned out every other sound. I couldn’t let myself be that vulnerable. Not if Jake were anywhere in the vicinity.

  Just the thought accelerated my heartbeat, when I needed to calm down. I took a few deep breaths, loosened my death grip on the wheel, and waited, feeling like I had a big red target on my back.

  The silence became unnerving, and moved quickly into nerve shredding. I wanted to get out, look around, do something. I couldn’t stand sitting here like, well, a sitting duck. But with only my Swiss army knife as a weapon, I felt less vulnerable with a couple tons of steel around me. So I waited.

  A muffled scream almost blew me out of the car. It came from the back of the cabin. I couldn’t wait any longer.

  I turned the car on and barreled on to the road, the back of my car fishtailing over the gravel. Executing a tight turn, I swerved around to the back of the cabin—and braked hard when I saw two figures sprawled in the foot high weeds.

  I popped the stick in neutral and jumped out, recognizing Sam’s streaked blonde hair. He lay on top of his mom, both of them bloody. I slid to my knees and grabbed his outflung wrist, searching for a pulse, because he did not look like he was breathing.

  Relief left me lightheaded when I found it, slow but steady. I reached for his mom’s hand, needing to make sure she was all right. And almost toppled backward when Sam exploded off the ground.

  “Don’t touch her!” He sounded terrible, and looked worse. “Alex—oh, thank God.” Blood streaked every inch of his t-shirt, his bare arms, his face. It stuck his hair to his cheeks, the strands already stiffening. “Help me.”

  The grief in his voice hurt. I crouched next to him—and saw that all the blood on him came from her.

  “Where is the wound?” I grabbed his wrist before he could lift her. “Sam—we need to stop the bleeding.”

  “In the car,” he said. “Take the crossbow.”

  He lifted her in his arms and moved to the passenger side, sitting on the top of the door and swinging his legs over, Evelyn’s limp body held tight against his chest. She looked like a rag doll. A bloody rag doll.

  I grabbed up the crossbow, all the bolts gone, and wedged the narrowest part of it in the tiny space behind the seats before sliding behind the wheel. “Hold on to her,” I said. “This road is too rough for my car, and it won’t be a smooth ride.”

  I wanted to go slow, to keep from hurting her more, but she needed speed. We bounced and slid, my hands gripping the wheel and the stick shift so tightly they both ached. By the time we got to the main road Sam was pale. His right hand pressed against Evelyn’s left shoulder, blood leaking between his fingers.

  “Take us home,” he said, his voice raw.

  “But she needs a hospital—”

  “Home.” His voice snapped out, anger and panic in the single word.

  “Hang on.”

  I ran every light on the four lane road, thankful it was late enough in the day, and there was little traffic. Living on the outskirts of town had its advantages. Like light traffic, and few cops trolling for potential tickets.

  I let up on the gas just enough to downshift as I turned into the long driveway, punching it once I straightened out. I screeched to a halt as close to the front door as I could get. Mr. Emmett bolted out of the house, picking up Evelyn almost before I came to a stop.

  “Stay here, Samuel,” he said. “I don’t need you distracting me.” I watched him carry her into the house, the door slamming behind him.

  I turned the car off, the rumble of the engine dying, leaving an awkward silence.

  Sam slumped in the passenger seat, one hand covering his face. I could tell by the way his shoulders shook that he was crying. I didn’t want to embarrass him, and as much as I wanted to hold him, comfort him, I just talked, forcing him to focus on me, and not what was going on in the house.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  He turned his head away from me, wiped at his face. “I found Jake.”

  My heartbeat jumped into my throat. “Did he—hurt you?”

  “No.” He pushed at the hair sticking to his face, and leaned his head against the seat. “But he didn’t have time to do more than jump me. I never saw him.” Sam swallowed, and kept going, his voice choked. “Mom stormed in right after. She shot him with two bolts before he attacked her. He clawed her shoulder, but she kept coming at him—”

  Sam cut himself off, fingers pressed against his eyes. I recognized the trick; I used it myself to keep from crying.

  I talked, to give him a distraction. To give me a distraction. “What happened next?”

  “I grabbed Mom, and Jake backed off. It was so dark in there, I could hardly see anything, except Jake’s eyes, the silver on Mom’s crossbow. His eyes were green—glowing like I’d never seen before. Then they just—disappeared.” The despair in his voice tore at me. I wanted to touch him, to let him know I was here, but part of me knew he didn’t want the comfort. Not yet. “I thought he was gone—Mom was bleeding so badly, and I couldn’t stop it. I knew I had to get her out of there. We made it as far as the cabin door before Jake caught us.”

  “Oh, God.” I was so close, I could have helped— And gotten bloody for my effort. I shrugged off the guilt, saved it for later, and kept pushing at him to get it out. “Tell me.”

  For the first time since we got in the car, he looked at me. Red rimmed grey-blue eyes were the only color in his face. Aside from the blood. I couldn’t stand to see him sitting there, alone. I took his hand, lacing our fingers together. He let out his breath, tightened his grip on me. It felt—right.

  “Alex—”

  “Tell me, Sam.”

  Swallowing, he stared down at our joined hands. “He shoved me to the ground before I could turn around, and I heard him—bite Mom—” His voice choked off. He raised his head, met my eyes, his grief pouring off him. “He bit Mom.”

  “She’ll be all right. Sam,” I was already touching him, so I went for it, and cradled his cheek with my free hand. “She’s a strong woman. She’ll be all right.”

  “But—”

  “You don’t know that everyone who’s bitten changes.”

  His eyes widened, and hope flared through the grief. I knew he thought about himself. That was the idea—without me actually saying it out loud.

  “Thank you.” He kissed my cheek. “Come on. I have to convince Dad to wait before he does something crazy.”

 
I let him pull me across the seat and over the top of the door, still numb from the kiss. Except my cheek. That tingled like I’d been slapped. I would have to save the freaking out for later. Right now we had to convince a monster hunter that his wife hadn’t just been turned into one.

  ~ ~ ~

  I waited for Sam in the living room, sitting on the only chair without upholstery. The last thing I wanted to do was stain some family heirloom.

  There were several text messages on my phone. One was from Dad, asking if I’d be home for dinner. The rest were from Misty.

  I clicked on the first one, and let out a sigh.

  I haven’t heard from you. What’s going on?

  The next message had me rolling my eyes.

  Don’t leave me out of this.

  Seriously.

  The next three were different versions of the same threat. I would deal with her later, once I came up with a lie she’d believe.

  I closed my messages, tucked my phone in the front pocket of my jeans. And stood when Sam appeared in the doorway.

  “How’s your—”

  “She’s okay.” He scrubbed his face with both hands, focused on the wall behind me. “Thank you for staying. You can go on and—”

  “Look at me.” I don’t know who was more startled by my demand. Sam met my eyes, his dark with exhaustion and grief. “I want you to know I’m here for you, and—” I swallowed, wiping my damp hands on my jeans. “If you need my help, call me.”

  Before I could take the words back, or do something embarrassing, I whirled and bolted to the front door, my dirt covered motorcycle boots clomping on the slippery marble. Slippery being the operative word. For the second time I lost my usually perfect balance. Strong hands caught my arm, held on until I found my footing.

  “If you meant it, Alex, I need to ask you a favor.”

  Letting out my breath, I risked a glance. Sam looked better, more color in his face, his hair damp from washing the blood out. Fear for his mom still lingered in his grey-blue eyes, but it was fading, hope replacing that desperate fear. I prayed it meant he believed she would get better, and not that he was pinning any of that hope on me.

  “What can I do?”

  “Your dad is an architect, which would give him access to county records. I need to see them, without my father knowing about it.”

  “Why?”

  “Jake keeps disappearing, but he is never far from town. I think he knows about some old sewer system, or a series of tunnels not on the current plans.” Which he would have access to, because of his father. “I have to find out where they are, so I can set a trap.” The muscles in his jaw clenched, and for the first time I saw real anger. “I’m going to stop him. Whatever it takes.”

  The cold voice, and the flashing eyes had me backing toward the door. I couldn’t forget—not ever—that he was attacked as well. He may not have admitted it, but he had the scars, and swinging from hopeless grief to burning anger was not normal.

  “I’ll—see what I can do. I have to go.”

  Sam beat me to the door, one hand pressed against it, all six feet of him looming over me. “What’s wrong, Alex?”

  “Nothing—my dad will be worried, I told him I wouldn’t be long, and I really have to get back before he—”

  “Whoa—slow down.” He pushed off the door, his body language less threatening, more—Sam. “You can call him, tell him you’re on your way. I didn’t thank you for helping us, for bringing my mom home.” He stared at the floor, the last of the anger disappearing, his shoulders slumped. “I scared you, and I’m sorry for that. It’s poor thanks for what you risked.” He lifted his head, and the exhaustion I knew must be crashing in on him finally showed. “If you can get me a copy of any old plans, that will be great. It will also be the last thing I ask of you.”

  He opened the door, obviously ready for me to go. Now that he freed me from any obligations, letting me walk with a clear conscience, I wanted to stay. We are contrary like that, aren’t we?

  “Sam—”

  “Go home, Alex. Be safe.”

  He waited for me to reach my car before he shut the door.

  It felt like he was closing it on any chance for us.

  ~ ~ ~

  After what seemed like an endless drive home, I almost made it to the door when my phone rang.

  I foolishly answered it without checking the number.

  “Alex!” Misty’s voice slammed into my ear. I jerked the phone away, still hearing her at arm’s length. “Where have you been? Why haven’t you called?”

  “I’m tired, Misty. Can we talk tomorrow?”

  “No, we can’t talk tomorrow. I will die if I have to wait that long! What happened with Sam?”

  “What?” Her question was not what I was expecting, and it threw me. I was ready to deny everything about Sam and his mom, but she wanted to know what happened . . . oh. Second mental head slap of the day. “Nothing, Misty.” I let out a sigh. “We both left soon after you. I went home, because I was tired. I am tired. So we are going to finish this conversation tomorrow, if you still have some need to hear about it.”

  “Wait—are you telling me he didn’t even kiss you, after you saved his life? Not even a peck on the cheek? What an ungrateful—” I cut her off mid-tirade. I could hear the rest at school tomorrow.

  School. Where I would have to see Sam. And pretend nothing had happened, and nothing would happen. Ever. Just the thought hurt.

  It was so much easier when he didn’t know I existed.

  I opened the door, and found Dad on the sofa, waiting for me. He was reading, but I knew he was waiting for me. It eased the weight pushing on me.

  “Hey, sweetheart.” Setting the book on the end table, he held out one hand. I took it, crawled on to the sofa next to him, and huddled in his arms, wanting this day to be over, and wishing none of it had ever happened. “Rough evening?”

  “The worst.” Sniffling, I pushed hair off my face and lifted my head. Dad’s concerned gaze met mine. “Can I ask you a favor?”

  “You can ask.” He smiled, leaning back and resting his arms across the sofa back. “Okay—hit me with it.”

  “I need to see some old plans of Emmettsville, and I was wondering if I could—um, if you could get me in to the records room. I know they’re locked up, and not available to every Joe Anybody who walks in.”

  He studied me, long enough it that made me nervous. “Old town plans. For a school project?”

  “Something like that.” It was a project, and it definitely had to do with people at school. So not a lie. Just not the whole truth. I really hated this. “I want to find out if there are any old tunnels, or a sewer system.”

  “I can tell you there’s a sewer system.” I blinked, surprised that he offered the information. “I had to work around it when I was designing the library building. I was surprised by how extensive the sewer tunnels are.” He flashed a smile. “I even went underground to take a look.”

  My heart jumped at that. I knew now he could have been attacked down there—or worse.

  “What did you find?” My voice came out remarkably calm, considering it felt like my heart had lodged in my throat.

  “A well-built sewer system. One we could have used, instead of digging a completely new one. That was one puzzle.” He rubbed his forehead, a sure sign that he didn’t have the answers he wanted. Mysteries intrigued him, and he loved solving them. Another reason I couldn’t breathe a word of what I knew. “I keep meaning to head back down there—”

  “No!” Panic shoved the denial out before I could stop it. Dad raised his eyebrows, waiting for an explanation. “I don’t think—the sewer tunnels could cave in, and no one knowing where you are . . .” I shuddered at the thought of him down there, with Jake MIA.

  “Hey,” he slid his hand in my hair, cradled the back of my head. It always soothed me, ever since I was a baby, and it worked again, pushing back the panic. “First off, I’d never go down there alone. And second, I do have an id
ea of how to check for stability, being an architect and all.”

  “Ha ha.” I closed my eyes for a second, exhaustion smacking me. “Just promise me you won’t go exploring. I can’t stand the thought of you being down there, of something happening to you.”

  Dad smiled. “I’ll get your permission before I venture below ground.” I didn’t feel any better, but at least I’d get a heads up. “As for your request—meet me at my office tomorrow, after school. I’ll take you over myself.”

  “Well, I was hoping you might,” I cleared my throat, trying not to blush. “Give me your access card.”

  “Ah.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “This favor is for someone else. A certain young Sam Emmett?”

  “Dad!” Now I was blushing, and brain dead on top of it. Not one of my normal comebacks made it through the embarrassment. “Can I please have your card?”

  “The perfect chance to give you an unforgettable teenage memory shot down.” Laughter burst out of him at my horrified glance. “I will meet you there, Alex, and sign you in. I’m afraid the rather—fussy—clerk won’t let you in without at least my presence.”

  Not exactly what I wanted, but I figured I could talk him out of staying once we got there. I had all day tomorrow to come up with some good reasons. “Deal.”

  “Tomorrow afternoon it is, then.” Leaning forward, he kissed my forehead. “Now go get some sleep. You’re still recovering from your bike accident.”

  “Okay.” I let out my breath, his reminder of my first lie setting off a serious case of the itches on my arm. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Any time. Good night, Alex. Sweet dreams for my sweet girl.” He winked at me and pushed off the sofa, heading for the kitchen.

  I trudged upstairs, more wiped with every step. I managed to undress and slip into the nightgown I threw on the bed this morning. And when I tossed the hoodie on the end of the bed, I noticed shiny spots on the black cotton. Closer inspection revealed what I was afraid it might be. Blood.

  Frantic, I searched every inch of skin Dad had been able to see. I didn’t remember any transfer from Sam. It must have come from the crossbow . . .