
# Alex Finch: Monster Hunter

The Monster Files Book 1

Cate Dean

Copyright, 2018, 2nd Edition.

All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except for use in any review. This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, locales, and events are either pure invention or used fictitiously, and all incidents come from the author's imagination alone.

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Reading order for The Monster Files:

Book 1 - Alex Finch: Monster Hunter

Book 2 - Truth and Consequences

Once Fallen (The Remarkable Life of Zach Wiche Continued)

Book 3 - Welcome to The Haven

Finding Grace (The Remarkable Life of Zach Wiche Continued)

Book 3.5 - A Monster Files Wedding

# Table of Contents

Copyright Page

Alex Finch: Monster Hunter (The Monster Files, #1)

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty One

Twenty Two

Twenty Three

Twenty Four

Twenty Five

Excerpt from Truth and Consequences

About The Author

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Further Reading: Truth and Consequences
Life is funny.

Not ha-ha funny, but strange, smack-you-in-the-face, bizarro world funny.

Who knew that one decision, one small, insignificant choice, would change my life? Change it in ways I could never even begin to imagine. And according to my mom, I have quite the imagination.

Okay--let me back up, start closer to the beginning. Before the strange.

My name is Alex Finch. Alex to everyone--except my mom, who insists on calling me by my given name: Margaret. Which is short for Margaret Agnes Alexandrea Finch. A mouthful, I know. I was blessed with the name of every aunt who didn't have a child of their own. I was just thankful Mom didn't have more sisters.

Fortunately, Mom only drags the full name out when I'm in trouble. Since I tend toward the loner end of the social scale--meaning I spend copious amounts of time in my room--it's easy to stay Margaret free most of the time.

Basic statistics: I am sixteen, on the short side of short at barely over five feet, a devout tomboy, an only child, and more than a little bit of a techno geek, trapped in a school full of blonde and tan beach bunnies.

Trust me, it can be challenging.

The dance classes I've been taking since I was six get me out of my own head, and help keep me sane and centered. Without them I'd be kicking some blonde booty out of sheer frustration.

I find myself talking to my laptop more than other people. Don't laugh--I've had some of my best conversations with Red, my lightning fast, do-anything-I-can-program system.

It may sound pathetic, and scream wallflower/no dates ever/why bother going to the dance syndrome, but at least Red doesn't ask me if I'm sick again, and how a twelve week session in the tanning salon at the mall would give my pale skin such a nice glow...

Yeah. So, there is my life in a few sentences. Short, pale geek, loner, and pretty much happy with the status quo.

Until the day I discovered that monsters were real.

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# One

It could have been worse.

Yes, it could have--I could have been stuck with Lance Rayner for the biggest, most important English assignment of my high school career. He had the sense of a rock, and dirt was smarter.

Instead I was partnered with Misty Corwin. The Misty Corwin--Prom Queen, cheerleader, class president, and airhead extraordinaire. I had already chosen my book for the project, To Kill a Mockingbird, and was 99.9% certain she'd never even heard of it. I was doomed.

And Misty cemented that fate by losing my notes three days into the project.

~ ~ ~

"What do you mean, you lost them?"

Misty tossed her waist length blonde hair over one shoulder, five feet ten inches of perfect lounging against the decorative arch leading into the school quad. She looked calm, but I could see the panic in those sky-blue eyes. "I, you know, misplaced my backpack."

Who does that?

I took a deep breath, let it out, promised myself a new toy for Red if I didn't punch her. "Do you remember where you misplaced it?"

"Um." Now the panic spread across her face. This was not going to be pleasant. "I got on the bus near," she looked around, as if some nefarious gossip was waiting to jump on every word. Yeah, I like words like nefarious. Sue me. "You know. The house."

"The house." My hands itched, wanting so badly to shake her until she started making sense. She lost the notes, my notes on the project. Notes I had spent months on. She was going to be accountable. If the small, angry part of me I only let out once in a leap year had its way, she'd be paying in pain. "And that would be which house, out of the, oh, twenty thousand or so in Emmettsville?"

Misty raised one perfectly shaped blonde eyebrow. "Sarcasm is like a second language to you, isn't it?" I looked at her, startled, and I have to say, impressed. I didn't think she even knew what sarcasm was. "The McGinty house--it's the closest bus stop to my gym. I must have set the backpack down when I was getting change for the bus. I didn't mean to, Alex." She did the pretty little pout that worked with every teacher at school. I was, thankfully, immune. "This assignment is important to me, too."

"Okay." I let out a sigh, partly because I knew she meant well, and partly to ease some of the desire to choke her blue. "Let's go see if it's still there."

"But I have practice!" She bounced off the arch, ready to cheer for her right to avoid this. "We have a game on Friday, and as head, I have to--"

"You're going with me." I may be short, but I have this--tone. Mom calls it my "creep out the children" voice. Misty cringed like I had threatened her with imminent death. "We will hunt down the backpack, and you will not touch the notes again. Are we clear?"

Misty seemed to shrink with every word. "Yeah. Can we go? I want to have some practice time."

I didn't mention the fact that I would be missing dance class as I slung my messenger bag over one shoulder. No one at school knew that I was a dancer--and I didn't want that to change now. I like having parts of my life separate, to avoid the pointing and laughing.

I clamped my hand on her wrist, to keep her from sidetracking on me as we went past her fellow cheerleaders, and made her walk to the McGinty house. Where there was no backpack to be found.

"You're sure it was here?"

Misty flipped her hair back, a sure sign she was irritated. "I was just here. This morning." She spoke slowly, like I was an idiot, and pointed across the street. "My gym is right there. The same gym I go to three times a week. Good enough?"

I pushed hair off my face, limp strands sticking to my skin. Walking here may have been punishment for her, but it didn't do me any favors. The humidity coming off the ocean two blocks away made me long for air conditioning. Welcome to October in Southern California.

"I'm going to check in the yard," I said. "Maybe some kid threw it over the fence."

"You're not--you're going inside?"

"It's just a house, Misty."

She moved closer to the street, rubbing her arms. The McGinty house was the cliche that every neighborhood seemed to have--an overgrown, abandoned house that was, of course, haunted. I'm far too practical to believe that random spirits hang out in a dirty old house, waiting for some kid sneaking in on a dare.

I handed her my messenger bag. "Try not to lose this one. I'll be right back."

She took it. "Alex--I don't think you should--ˮ

"I'll be fine. Stay here."

I opened the rusted wrought iron gate, which naturally squeaked. Inside, the wide lawn was overgrown with some kind of vine, spreading across patches of dry, dead grass, the mess covered by the first drop of fall leaves, and piles of trash. The sidewalk was cracked, and buckling under the pressure of the tree roots demanding more room.

I scanned the side of the yard closest to me, looking for a backpack-shaped object among the trash, leaves and vines. Nothing.

Pushing down pointless anger, I kept looking, forced to move deeper into the yard. Closer to the house, the trash piles got bigger, denser. With a sigh, I pushed up the sleeves of my hoodie and resigned myself to getting dirty.

Ten minutes later, all I had for my efforts were filthy hands and a nasty gash on my left forearm from a rusted can. Terrific. Tetanus shot time for me. I had a handkerchief in my messenger bag, and it was time to give up on the backpack, and my months of work.

I could cobble the notes together again from the research on my computer. Unfortunately, most of them had been handwritten during study period, when we aren't allowed near the library computers.

Please, don't get me started.

I know--I should have scanned them in, made a backup copy. I just didn't expect anyone else to be touching them. Backups were number one on my new to do list.

With a sigh, defeated, I started to turn toward the street--and I spotted it, a green bulk in the shadows of the porch.

"Yes." Forgetting the blood, and the filth coating my fingers, I moved to the steps. They looked--decrepit, but I wanted what was inside the backpack enough to risk it. Besides, the heavy leather of my motorcycle boots would protect me if I went through.

I tested the first step. The wood screeched under my weight, but it held, so I took a chance. The screech became a squeal. I held my breath, ready to jump at the first crack. The squeal subsided to a grumbling moan. Encouraged, I moved to the second step. It got me close enough to reach for the strap.

That was when I heard the growl.

A feral dog--no surprise, since the house had been abandoned for years. I was already headed for a tetanus shot; I didn't want stitches on top of it.

Slowly, I straightened, feeling for the edge of the step. The growl escalated, turned into a vicious snarl. That snarl came from the half open front door, and somewhere above my shoulder.

Whatever crouched in the shadows was huge.

Heart pounding so hard I felt it in my throat, I clutched the splintered rail, felt blood slide down my hand, drip on the step. Great. If the dog was hungry, the smell of blood would just make it a nastier opponent.

I braced myself, my muscles tense, ready to spring. When I moved, it would have to be fast. And probably not fast enough. But standing here was a guaranteed lose-lose. At least if I ran I'd have a chance.

I took in a shaky breath, bent my knees--and froze at the sound of footsteps behind me.

"Did you find it? Oh, there it is." Misty bounded up the stairs, barely making them squeak. How did she do that? Being ten inches taller than my barely over five feet, she had to weigh more than me. "I'll get it and we can--"

"Misty, no--"

I shoved her on to the porch just as the snarling shadow bolted through the doorway, leaping over the stairs. Misty's scream snapped me out of my panic.

With the rabid animal outside, I took our only option: I dragged her inside and slammed the door behind us. The warped wood caught on the threshold, leaving a wide gap.

We both backed away as a huge snout pushed through that gap. Misty screamed again. I clapped one hand over her mouth and pulled her further into the dark house, hoping to find a back door, a broken-out window--some kind of exit. Hell, I was ready to kick out a wall if necessary.

"Keep quiet." I stood on tiptoe and whispered against her ear, waited for her to nod. "I'm going to try and find another way out." I glanced down at her feet, and the three-inch heels she wore. "Take off your shoes."

She stared at me, her eyes dilated. She was terrified, but she nodded, slipping them off. To my surprise she set them on the floor. She was leaving them behind.

We moved into what looked like a formal dining room, and the front door slammed open. Misty jumped, but kept quiet, her gaze on me. I closed the door, noticed the blood trail I left behind me. We didn't have much time.

My gaze skated around the room, spotted the far window. It had been completely blown out, and was big enough to climb through with minimal damage.

I motioned for Misty to go first, keeping myself between her and the door. Whatever stalked us had my scent, and the convenient spatter of my blood to lead it straight to us.

Misty reached the window, and the way was still clear. I let out my breath, smiled at her.

The tap of claws on wood warned me a second before the creature exploded through the door.

I backpedaled, running into Misty. She let out a shriek and dropped to the floor. I swallowed, watching the creature stalk across the dining room.

It looked like a mutant wolf--until it stood up on its hind legs, extended claws as long as my hand, and smirked at me. Yes, smirked. Seven feet of snarling, smirking black fur, with teeth that could rip my arm off without any effort.

I crowded Misty against the wall, her whimpers almost as loud as the constant growling of the mouth-breathing monster.

Panicked, I searched the floor around us for a weapon, any weapon, doing a mental head slap when I remembered my Swiss army knife in my back pocket. I froze mid reach when the creature stepped closer.

It stank, like sweaty dog, with an odd, coppery stench that I finally recognized as blood. Horror coiled around the panic, and I pushed Misty along the wall, until we conveniently trapped ourselves in the corner.

The creature turned its head, following our retreat. I swore that smirk turned into a grin. A nasty grin. It was toying with us, playing with its food. I was insulted, and relieved. The game gave me more time to figure a way out of this alive.

I reached behind me to find Misty, and my fingers hit up against something metal. It pressed into my palm, and I realized Misty was handing it to me. I closed my fingers around it, recognizing the shape.

A curved iron leg, like the kind off an old woodstove. We had one in our family room, complete with lion's paw feet. If nothing else, I could surprise the creature, maybe give us enough time to get out the window. It was better defense than the three-inch blade in my knife.

I felt Misty ease up behind me. Good--she was getting ready. Now it was my turn.

Stepping forward, I pressed the makeshift weapon against my leg.

"Hey." The creature tilted its head, dark, red rimmed eyes studying me. I'm guessing its food didn't talk back all that often. "I've got something for you."

Before I could rethink my stupid move I swung the iron leg like a bat.

It slammed into the left front leg--and the creature let out a howling scream that threatened to burst my eardrums.

I didn't wait around to see the results. Grabbing Misty, I bolted to the window and shoved her out headfirst, following so fast I landed on top of her. We untangled limbs, and I hauled her upright, ignoring the burn from my gash.

My dash for freedom was brought to an abrupt halt by her pained gasp.

"My hair is caught," she whispered. Tears slipped down her face. "I'm sorry."

I followed the line of her sleek blonde hair, pulling my knife out of my pocket. It was caught, all right. In the jagged corner of the windowsill.

"Hold still." I set the iron leg still in my hand on the ground. How I managed to hold on to it was a discussion for another time. When I could breathe without terror squeezing my lungs. I tugged at her hair. It didn't budge.

I took a closer look, aware that the creature could burst through the window at any second. Long strands were tangled around the wood, wedged between the sill and the wall.

I caught her hand, pulled her closer. "I'll try to get it free."

She shook her head, glancing at my knife. "Just cut it. Hurry."

I snapped the blade out and sawed at her hair, flinching every time she whimpered. After the last strands were cut, I picked up the iron leg, and moved away from the window, checking our escape options.

We were at the back of the house, trapped by an eight foot version of the spike tipped wrought iron fence. McGinty must have been one paranoid man. And we weren't getting out that way.

Before I could stop her, Misty disappeared around the corner. The creature didn't follow us out the window, like I expected, so it could be anywhere--and that included waiting for us to run out front and straight into its sharp claws.

"Misty!" I tried not to shout her name, but I needed her to hear me. I skidded around the corner and ran right into her. She clutched my injured arm; the pain almost buckled my knees. "God--"

"Sorry." She snatched her hand away, and saw the blood-smeared gash. "Oh, Alex," she whispered. "That thing didn't--"

"Rusty can." I caught my breath, cradled my throbbing arm. Leaning in, I kept my voice as low as possible. The creature probably had the keen hearing of a wolf, and had already pinpointed our position. "I'm going to go first. If I tell you to run, you run. No hesitation, no looking back."

"What about you?" Her concern left me feeling--odd. No one at school ever... Never mind.

"I'll be right behind you. Promise," I said, when she gave me the skeptical eye. "Are you okay to run?"

We both looked down at her feet, at the bloody footprints in the dirt. Glass littered the ground, and she had obviously found her share of it.

"I'm good. The pain'll come after, I'm sure." She tried a smile, failed miserably. I appreciated the effort. Miss Prom Queen kept surprising me. "Don't play the martyred hero. I really, really don't want to do the project on my own."

Before today, I didn't want to do the project with her at all. Now I wanted to live through this, just to see what kind of awesome we could create. And I don't use that word often--especially with anything relating to school.

"Just for you." I hefted the iron leg, my muscles already burning from the weight. "Ready?" Misty let out her breath, nodded. "Wait for my signal, then run like the chess club is after you."

That got the smile out. The chess club adored Misty, and let her know, in all sorts of creepy, stalkerish ways. "Meet you at the bus stop," she whispered. "Seriously. You better show."

"Got it." I inched along the side of the house, Misty close behind, but out of swinging range. I had seriously underestimated her brain capacity. The stench of wet dog hit me before we reached the corner. I touched Misty's wrist. "When I say go, you hit it. Hard and fast."

She bit her lip, but nodded. I kept moving forward, both hands on the iron leg. This time I was aiming for that smirking snout. I needed to do enough damage to give me time to reach the sidewalk. That was my get-out-alive goal.

I just hoped I had enough left to cause the damage.

My arm had been bleeding steadily since I cut it, with no time to do anything but pretend it didn't hurt like hell. Closing my stronger right hand over my left, I moved forward, taking slow, even breaths.

Claws scraped across cement. It was on the walkway--I hoped--leading up to the house. Please, God, don't let it be on the sidewalk outside the fence.

I took a chance, peeked around the side of the house. And let relief loosen the knot in my gut. The creature sniffed along the middle of the cracked walkway, its back to me. I knew I wouldn't get another break like this.

Shouting in my head, I ran forward, raised the heavy iron leg and bashed it against the creature's right flank.

"Go, Misty!"

I saw her in my peripheral vision, dashing across the lawn. I scrambled backward, keeping the furious, snarling creature in my sightline.

Without warning it leapt forward. I cried out, ramming into the fence left side first. My injured arm bounced off the wrought iron. The pain shot through me, going straight to my legs, which happily gave in to it, dropping me to the ground.

All my pain-blurred vision saw was a black shape filling the sky. I covered my head with my right arm, made myself as small as possible and braced for tearing agony.

Instead, a startled whine nearly deafened me. Something wet and icy splashed over my right arm, followed by a pair of calloused hands that dragged me up and out of the yard before I could take in a breath to scream.

"Alex!" Misty's voice pierced through the brain fog. "God, are you okay? Get her away from the fence, Sam. That nightmare could still reach through and--"

"He won't be hurting anyone, Misty." Oh, no. Please, let me be hearing things. "You're safe, Alex. I promise you."

No--not hearing things. That deep, quiet voice belonged to Sam Emmett--yeah, those Emmetts, as in Emmettsville. I've had a secret crush on him since the first grade. I can count on one hand the number of times he's noticed me. After today, I'll have to start using both hands--to hide my face every time he walks by.

"Alex?" Misty's soft fingers pushed the sweaty, blood tacky hair off my face. "You're really scaring me here. Look at me, talk to me, tell me I'm an idiot."

A snort of laughter escaped me at the last comment. I couldn't help myself; who knew Misty was actually funny? After a quick pep talk, I raised my head, and stared into the clear grey-blue eyes that had haunted me for ten years. "Hey, Sam."

"Are you all right?" I made an attempt at a smile. It felt ghastly. Sam actually looked concerned, crouched over me, his wide shoulders blocking my view of the house--

Panic had me trying to stand. "Where is it? We have to--"

"He can't hurt you." Sam closed both hands over my shoulders. I don't think--nope, he's never touched me like this before. I didn't know if my heart could take the added stress. "Alex." One hand cupped my chin, and I didn't have any choice. I had to look at the gorgeous face. Up close, in touching distance. God, I might need a medic. "What did you see?"

"Are you kidding me?" Misty's screech threatened to blow out my eardrums. "She saw what I saw--a giant, hairy thing with teeth as big as my arm!"

Sam ignored her--he ignored the most knock out beautiful girl in school!--and kept his gaze on me, waiting. I swallowed, horribly aware of the blood staining my green hoodie, my faded jeans, my hair, and probably every inch of exposed skin. I felt sticky, disgusting, and about as attractive as a corpse on a hot day.

"Alex." His fingers cradled my chin, the skin rough but warm, and so gentle his care tightened my throat. Please, don't let me cry. Do not let me cry. "Tell me what you saw."

"You said he." It just clicked. Sam was talking about the creature. "The wolf-thing--you know." I stared at him, not able to say the words.

You know what he is.

Sam nodded, once, and let me go. When he stood I finally saw what he used to get the hairy nightmare to back off.

A silver walking stick.

Liquid slid down the intricate, carved length, the same shiny, slick silver as the stick. I looked at my arm. Dots of silver marked my hoodie, my skin. It wasn't mercury, because according to some of the odder websites I've come across while trolling late at night, mercury didn't work against werewolves...

Oh, sweet God in Heaven. The truth my mind kept grabbing on to every time I looked at the creature slapped at me, ugly and all too real.

Those grey-blue eyes studied my face, watched every emotion flash over it. I'd make a lousy poker player.

"He's not what you think." Sam's quiet voice cut into my thoughts. "And I'm sorry for what happened."

He helped me stand, one arm around my waist. If I weren't so disgusting and already more than a little loopy from the pain, I would have been in crush heaven. Instead, I simply leaned against him, staring at the backpack in Misty's hands, then at the now empty front yard.

It hadn't been a dream, or a hallucination. I had the wounds to prove that. Just what the hell attacked us, and what Sam was protecting--those were questions he'd answer. Even if it took every last nerve I had to confront him.

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# Two

They both escorted me home, Misty chattering like the airhead I always pegged her as. Now I knew better. She kept glancing over the front passenger seat at me, like I'd die between one sentence and the next.

How did she manage to look movie star tousled after that, even with a couple of inches chopped off her hair, when I ended up as appealing as a zombie extra?

"Alex." Sam's quiet voice jerked me out of my thoughts. "We're in your neighborhood. Which house is yours?"

"Take the first left, then the first two rights. It's the big yellow and white Victorian on the left."

Misty stared at the mix of Victorians, Craftsman style cottages, and bungalows. "I didn't know you lived in the historic part of town. This is so cool."

"My mom inherited the house from her grandmother. She's been renovating it ever since."

"Impressive," Sam said.

Did they really care about where I lived? Sam lived in a mansion outside of town, for heaven's sake. And Misty's dad had a custom house built at the edge of their own private beach.

I snuck a look at Sam. He drove, calm and quiet, studying the houses with Misty. The only thing giving him away was his white knuckled grip on the steering wheel. I didn't know how I was going to pry the truth out of him, when it took all my courage to look him in the eye when I passed him in the hall at school.

Yeah, I know--I had just attacked some seven foot hairy monster. I wasn't secretly in love with the monster.

Letting out a sigh, I closed my eyes, and leaned my head against the seat. Sam had taken the time before we left to tear up his t-shirt, wrap part of it around my forearm, stripping it off without even a hint of warning.

If I hadn't already been distracted and in pain I'm certain I would have passed out. Instead I got a long, up close look at lean, sculpted muscle, lightly tanned skin--and odd, narrow scars running over his left shoulder. Old, faded scars. Like claw marks.

I added them to my list of questions. It kept getting longer.

Now he wore a well-used, torn Emmettsville High sweatshirt, rescued from the floor of his SUV. Yeah, even the school was named after them. Half the town, since his ancestor had claimed the piece of land as his own little kingdom, and decided that he needed subjects to be king. Ready built businesses and homes had been his bribes--owned by him, of course.

Most of it was still owned by the current Emmetts. For being the multi-great grandson of a megalomaniac, Sam was pretty well-adjusted.

"Here we are!" Misty's too chirpy voice yanked me back to the moment. "Home at last."

I let out a relieved sigh as we pulled into the long driveway running along the side of my house. Mom wasn't home yet.

"You can just drop me off--"

"Not on your life." Misty pushed at Sam when he didn't say anything. "Tell her we're not leaving her, bleeding and traumatized, on her front doorstep."

Sam glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "What she said."

Wow--I felt all warm and fuzzy inside. "It's okay. I've done worse to myself." I started to open the door. Sam beat me to it, moving faster than I expected.

"Give me your hand, Alex." He eased me out of the SUV, while Misty ran ahead with my keys to open the front door, my messenger bag and the backpack slung over her shoulder. Her feet only had a few shallow cuts; she'd already shed the makeshift bandages from the rest of Sam's t-shirt.

I tried to talk them out of bringing me inside. I didn't want them to witness my meltdown when what I'd done finally hit me. Plus I wanted to clean up before Mom got home, to avoid her meltdown if she saw so much as a scratch. I could hide everything with a shower and one of my hoodies. I think.

Sam's arm slipped around my waist, again. This time I was aware enough to feel the tingle, to feel the blush spread over my cheeks. Hell.

He glanced down at me, and smiled. "Don't be afraid to lean against me. I think I can handle it."

Did I mention he was tall? Yeah, about a foot taller than stumpy me, so it felt like he was wrapped around me as he led me up the sidewalk.

I took him up on his offer and leaned into his support, moving slowly, savoring every second. I knew it would be the only time I ever got this close to him, and I wanted to remember every sound, every scent, every touch, so I could relive it in private. After he started ignoring me again.

Bruises and scrapes started complaining as we climbed the steps to the porch. By the time Sam and Misty got me to my bedroom upstairs, my body was in full on rebellion.

"Help her into the shower," Sam said. "And stay with her, Misty. She's lost too much blood to be left alone."

"Where are you going?"

He paused in the doorway. "To get something for that cut. I'll meet you downstairs."

And he was gone. If I hadn't been so shell shocked, my mind would be screaming "Sam Emmett was in my BEDROOM!" But it came out as a whisper, and would soon be a long, detailed entry in my journal.

"Okay, hero." Misty dropped the messenger bag and backpack next to my desk, led me to the bathroom attached to my room. Yep--being an only child does have its perks. "Let's get you undressed, see what the damage is."

"That's all right." I tried to pull away from her. My body refused to obey. To my horror, it did the opposite--all but falling against her as my feet tangled themselves around each other. Huh. I didn't know they could screw up so badly. I'm actually quite graceful, thanks to ten years of dance classes and a low center of gravity. Being short does have some advantages. "Sorry," I mumbled, clutching at her. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"It's called shock, girl." Misty's voice was brisk, but the look she gave me was kind. And grateful. How am I supposed to handle grateful from the most popular girl in school? She's barely had more than two words for me since kindergarten, until three days ago. And I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Sam Emmett had been in my bedroom. No wonder my head was spinning. "Add in blood loss and that--monster." She shuddered, and I saw that under the smear of dirt, and now my blood, she was pale. "I'm surprised you're still upright."

I knew I wouldn't be for much longer. Shock was setting in, and my body wanted the oblivion of sleep. That shock kept me from red-faced embarrassment when she helped me strip, carefully pulled the makeshift bandage off my arm, and guided me into the shower stall, closing the door for me.

Don't get me wrong--I'm far from ashamed of my body, but next to her perky, curvy figure, I felt like a boy.

The brief shower was an exercise in pain. I had bruises everywhere, and more than a few scrapes I didn't notice until the water hit them. I used the tiled wall as a support for my injured arm, to keep it out of the spray. It hurt enough.

Once the water ran clear, I turned the shower off, and grabbed one of the towels hanging over the top of the stall to dry my hair. I wanted to pull it back, but with only one working arm that wasn't going to happen, so I let it drip down my back. I was not going to wear a towel on my head in front of Sam Emmett.

I spotted the cleaning rag from under the sink on top of the second towel, and reminded myself to thank Misty for snooping. This time it was called for.

Carefully, flinching from just the weight of it, I wrapped the soft cloth around my arm, hissing when it touched the still bleeding gash.

I took the second towel, and carefully dabbed at my skin, flinching every time I hit a raw spot. Giving up, I wrapped it around me and pushed the shower door open.

"Here you go--nice and cuddly warm." Misty stood in the bathroom, holding up a fuchsia robe I never wore. I mean--it was pink. I don't do pink. Ever. It was a gift from my favorite Aunt Agnes, which was the only reason it was actually in my closet at all. "Arm out."

"Misty." She looked at me, smiling. "I hurt my arm, not my brain."

She let out an impatient breath. "I know that. I'm just trying to distract you."

"That robe did the job. I don't really ever wear--"

"Are you kidding me? This is adorable."

Before I could protest any more, she had my good arm in the sleeve. Resigned to looking like an idiot in front of Sam yet again, I clenched my jaw as she eased my injured arm into the wide sleeve, and gave me the privacy I needed to drop my towel and close the robe. She tied the lace trimmed belt. Lace. Really.

I managed to not roll my eyes as she practically drooled over the girly detailing, and helped me down the stairs. I felt better after the shower, but I wasn't sure I could climb them again. I knew I didn't dare try it on my own.

My heart flip-flopped when I saw Sam waiting for us in the living room. Sunlight filtered through the window, highlighting his shoulder length, sun streaked blonde hair--and a thin, pale scar on the left side of his jaw I never noticed before. Me--who studied every school photo I had of him for hours on end. How could I not have seen it before?

He distracted me by taking my good arm and lowering me to the sofa. I blinked when he pulled out a medical kit--no, a suture kit. I recognized it from the trip I took to the emergency room after I spun out on my mountain bike. The gash on my right knee took sixteen stitches, and the doctor used a kit exactly like the one Sam held.

He shrugged when he saw my raised eyebrows, opened the kit. "My uncle's a doctor, and I like to be prepared."

Prepared--in case a monster attacks someone he knows? Yeah--that list just keeps getting longer.

He sat on the slipper chair he'd pulled closer to the sofa, took out the instruments, and set them in a bowl of steaming water on the coffee table. Carefully--and with the ease that screamed experience--he peeled the cloth off my wound. I sucked in my breath, used all my control to keep from snatching my arm away. It felt like he was peeling off a layer of skin.

After setting the cloth on the coffee table, he rested my left forearm on a dish towel he laid over the arm of the sofa. Just as carefully, he cleaned the wound, using the sterile pads and antiseptic wash he must have found in my mom's extensive medical stash. Hey--you have an active tomboy, you collect supplies.

"Take these." Sam handed me three white pills. I recognized them--I've taken my share of pain pills, between dance class and my mountain bike adventures. He gave me a bottle of water, took it back after I swallowed them. "I don't have any way to numb your arm, Alex, so I'm afraid this is going to hurt." I nodded, prayed I wouldn't do something embarrassing, like pass out. "Misty, could you hold her still for me?"

She sat next to me and held on to my good hand. I tensed, not entirely comfortable with all the attention. Never mind the touching. Don't get me wrong--I've had dance partners who grabbed me in every conceivable spot, so I'm no stranger to groping.

But this was--uncomfortable, and exciting, and uncomfortable. Tingles radiated out from the contact point to every inch of my bruised and tired body.

"Relax for me. That will make it easier on all of us." Sam did a good job of distracting me as he started to suture the gash. "I heard you outprogrammed Mr. Deeter in class last week."

I blinked at him. "You--heard about that?"

He knew I existed last week? Oh, God. What was I wearing? Was that the week I tripped down the stairs because I was too busy watching him walk across the quad?

"Are you kidding?" He smiled, his gaze on my arm. "Matt Kinski told me Mr. Deeter had a fit when you fixed the coding glitch."

"It was more of a tantrum."

Sam laughed, the sound of it warm and deep, and--hell, I had to stop that thought train. He felt responsible for whatever happened, and was fixing it. The End.

I jerked when he got closer to the deepest part of the wound.

Sam paused. "I'm sorry, Alex, I know it hurts."

"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.

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# Three

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 had 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 had not been 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 sarcasm 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 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, and 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, because they know her family. 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 who had been attacked that fateful day ten years ago.

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# Four

Sam's 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.

Mrs. Emmett moved forward, both hands held out. "Alex, it is a pleasure to finally meet you!" The overexpressed happiness made me want to run far far away. The grip Sam had on my good arm prevented that--like he knew I would seriously contemplate the idea. Mrs. Emmett completed the trap by holding on to both hands. Behind the smile, I saw fear. "Please, come in. I have some nice hot tea waiting for you both."

Surprisingly, she let me go. Sam took over the feeling of being trapped by wrapping his arm around me, and all but carrying me inside, past Mr. Emmett--who did not look happy to see me, and didn't even pretend otherwise.

That was the non-welcome I had expected. After all, I had just learned the town royalty's deep, dark secret. He stepped in behind us, like the rear guard.

I wasn't going anywhere.

The inside of their enormous house looked--a lot like mine. Comfy furniture, magazines, and books scattered across the coffee table, a glass of water on a side table. You know, lived in. I had visions of servants lined up to do everything for them, with spotless, design magazine rooms, and not a dust bunny in sight. I was pleasantly surprised, and my opinion of Sam jumped a few notches.

He'd always been nice, but I figured it was because everyone expected him to be "nice." With such a normal home life, I saw it was because he was, well--normal. Like me. Okay--not like me, but like the average kid at school, who cleaned his own room and did his own homework.

We all have our moments of being completely off base. This was mine.

I just hoped I had time to enjoy the surprise.

"Please sit, Alex. Samuel told us how courageous you were yesterday." I could almost hear Sam cringe at the use of his full name. "I suppose he told you enough to pique your interest." Perching on the chair next to the sofa, her knees almost touching mine, she searched my face. Sam had inherited her eyes--clear, grey-blue, and absolutely mesmerizing. I couldn't look away, even though I desperately wanted to. "You must understand, Alex, there is much at stake here--for our family, for Jake. If even a whisper of what happened was to get out--"

"Dad!" Sam leaped up, standing between me and Mr. Emmett--who was coming straight at me. With a knife. I almost fell off the sofa trying to put space between us. "Jake didn't bite her."

Oh, God.

My gaze jumped down to my left arm. I didn't wear a hoodie today--just a long sleeved shirt, so nothing would press against my arm. The loose sleeve accomplished its mission; my bandaged arm was hanging out for everyone to see.

"We can't take the chance that you're wrong--"

"I'm not." Sam didn't move. Instead, he stared down his dad, his voice edged with an anger I'd never heard from him. "She cut it on a can. I know--I sutured it myself."

"How do you--"

"I've treated enough of Jake's damage to know the difference. And so have you. Now lose the knife." To my shock, Mr. Emmett stood down, setting the knife on the table next to the sofa. Sam sat, laid one hand on my cheek. "Are you okay?" I nodded, too stunned by the near violence to be affected by Sam touching me. That would come later. "I'm so sorry--I didn't expect you to be threatened." He glanced over at his dad.

"No worries." My voice actually came out--and it sounded like something resembling normal. Astounding. "I understand where he's coming from. I think." I took in a shaky breath, and Sam lowered his hand. The air felt colder. "I'm taking a stab in the dark here--" I cut myself off, heat flaring across my cheeks. "Oh, um, no pun intended."

Sam's smile eased some of the embarrassment. His dad's shout of laughter actually had me smiling.

He was still chuckling when he sat on the arm of the chair. He did not look like the wild-eyed man who came at me with a knife just a minute ago. Now he looked like a dad. He looked like my dad--normal. But I'd never put that word next to thoughts of him again, no matter how much he laughed at me.

"Alex?" Sam's voice snapped my head around.

"Right." I forced a smile, pulled my mind back to the conversation. "A bite from Jake is--contagious."

"She's a smart one, Sam." Mr. Emmett did not sound happy. "Evelyn, get the form."

Mrs. Emmett nodded, kissing his cheek when she stood up. "I like her, Drew."

He snorted. I would have been alarmed, if Mrs. Emmett hadn't laughed.

She left the room long enough for Mr. Emmett to glare at me until I wanted to crawl under the sofa. When she returned he backed off, but I knew I wouldn't be getting support from that quarter any time soon. Maybe never.

Mrs. Emmett shooed Sam over and sat next to me. "This is a simple form, dear, stating that you will maintain strict confidentiality--"

"English, Mom," Sam said. "Not lawyer speak."

She let out a sigh. As the top attorney at a firm in Los Angeles, that was asking quite a bit. "This promises you won't talk to anyone about what happened to you. Doing so will result in consequences I won't go into, because I don't wish to frighten you." Smiling, she held out a pen. "Just sign at the bottom."

I didn't hesitate, especially with Mr. Emmett giving me the fish eye. Taking the pen, I scribbled my name next to the big red X. Before I could hand the pen back Sam pulled me to my feet and headed for the front door. "Alex needs to go, Mom."

"Goodbye, dear. Come back soon."

Right.

Sam all but dragged me out of the living room and to the front door. Opening one side of the enormous double doors, he practically pushed me out. "Your bike will be around the side. Don't turn around, Alex. Just keep riding until you're home. Promise me."

"Okay." He looked so--scared. I would have promised just about anything to take that away. "See you tomorrow?"

"Do my best. We might still have--family business."

I nodded, handed him the pen, and walked along the front of the house. Sam kept his gaze on me the whole time. With a final glance, I rounded the corner, found my bike propped against the pristine blue siding. Moving slower than usual, and more than a little stiff after yesterday, I started to ease my leg over the low center bar.

"I know you." I froze at the gravel rough voice. It was right behind me, and I was really, really afraid I recognized it.

Turning, taking my bike so I had something between us, I found Jake standing less than a foot away. Yeah--that Jake. My heart jumped so high I could feel it in my throat.

His left arm was in a sling. The arm I beaned with an iron stove leg. It had been ten years since our last face to face, and I look more like a girl and less like a boy than I used to, so I didn't expect him to know me as me.

As the girl who attacked him yesterday--that was a whole other scenario.

I had to get out of here before he remembered why he knew me.

"I was just on my way home..." My voice faltered as he did the one thing I prayed he wouldn't do. He leaned in and smelled me. Any carnivore sniffed out blood, and he would have scented mine yesterday, from the gash on my forearm, before he even saw me. I'm guessing it was what drew him out.

"You," he sniffed again, stepping far inside my comfort zone. His confined arm brushed over my injury and I flinched. Before I could move, his good hand snatched out and caught the front of my shirt. "It was you."

"Defending myself." I yanked free, surprised that I could. The battle must have taken as much out of him as it had me. "I'm sorry if I hurt you, but you were out to rip me into tiny, edible pieces."

A smile spread across his face. A lean, handsome face that looked too much like Sam. "Not intentionally."

"Is that your sorry version of an apology?"

The smile faded. Jake let out a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his good hand. "No, but this is. I am sorry, Alex." I jumped at my name. "I remember you now. The little tomboy always tagging along after Sam." He flashed a smile. "You grew up nice."

"Thanks. I think."

"Don't worry--I'm pretty sure Sam didn't notice the tagging along part." His smile faded. "I don't have much--humanity, when I change. And it's especially bad on my anniv--" He cut himself off, but I already knew what he was about to say.

"I accept your sorry apology." His shout of laughter had me relaxing. "If you had torn me into tiny, edible pieces, that would be a different story."

He cocked his head--just like he had in the McGinty house. My muscles tensed as the move reminded me of what hid behind the friendly face.

"Still too much of a tomboy for my taste, but you have a brain in there." Pain tightened his face, almost hiding the despair I could feel coming off him in waves. I wanted to understand, I seriously did--but he still scared the hell out of me, even in human form. Oh, God--I was thinking phrases like "in human form." I really wanted my old, ignorant bliss back. "Use that brain, Alex, and stay away from us. Especially Sam."

My heart skipped. "What are you talking about?"

"I saw him take off his shirt, after he chased me off." He studied me, those dark eyes intense. "I know you saw the scars. Do you think he was only clawed?"

The shock of having it thrown out like that nearly gave me heart failure.

"I don't--"

"Walk away, Alex. Forget what you saw yesterday and just walk--"

With a harsh gasp he doubled over, dropping to his knees.

My first instinct was to dump my bike and help. Unfortunately, that's exactly what I did.

"Jake?" I touched one hunched shoulder, felt him shake under my fingers. "Are you--"

"Get away." He growled those two words. Literally. Too late I saw hair sprouting from his clenched fist. "Go!"

The shout spiraled to a howl. I took his advice and got out of there.

Adrenaline roared through me, soundtracked by an actual, tortured roar. Coming from right behind me. I didn't hesitate, didn't turn around. I grabbed my bike, running across the grass with it before I jumped on and pedaled like half of Hell was after me.

By the time I shot out of their long driveway and on to the street I could hardly catch my breath. I kept moving, took a quick glance over my shoulder. And almost crashed my bike into the nearest tree.

Sam stood in the side yard, the same walking stick he had yesterday flashing in the sun as it swung through the air. All I saw before he went down was a blur of black.

Just like yesterday, I didn't think. I just did.

Pedaling as fast as I could I raced back down the driveway, dumping my bike at the edge of the lawn. I pulled my Swiss Army knife out of my pocket, flipped out the blade as I ran to Sam. My heart stopped at the sight of him, sprawled under a pile of black fur and claws, unconscious.

I spotted his walking stick--okay, I almost tripped over it. Throwing the knife blade first at the grass, I grabbed the stick and sprinted forward, swinging it like I was going for the final home run of a pennant game.

In a moment of serious deja vu, I hit Jake in the same spot high on his already injured left arm. Foreleg. Crap--front left leg.

He howled like a girl monster and started going for me--until he saw the walking stick in my hands. That had him backing off--all the way around the house and out of sight.

By the time I lowered myself to the grass to check on Sam, his parents appeared, carrying some of the nastiest medieval-looking weapons I've ever seen.

"Samuel!" Mrs. Emmett dropped her crossbow-with-giant-silver-spiked-arrow and knelt at Sam's head, crouching over him. Mr. Emmett kept going, the sun bouncing off his big ass sword and all the silver in his chain mail vest. Yes, I said chain mail. "Please don't let him be--" She cut herself off, like she just remembered my presence. "Help me check him, Alex. Look for any sign of injury."

I nodded, my heart aching so badly for her I couldn't talk. I knew the end to the sentence she couldn't finish. She hoped Sam hadn't been bitten. Damn it, I was hoping the same thing.

Silently, we both ran our hands over every inch of him. Except for a bruise on his left cheek, and a nasty bump on the back of his head, he was bite free. I sat back on my heels, tears stinging my eyes as relief swept through me.

Mr. Emmett jogged back across the ridiculously huge lawn, blood dulling his chain mail. He held up one hand before Mrs. Emmett said anything. "It's not mine." I noticed his sword was conspicuously absent. He crouched next to Sam, laid one hand on his arm. "Any--injuries?"

He glanced over at me, gratitude fighting with suspicion on his face. Mrs. Emmett touched his wrist. "He's fine. Alex intervened before Jake--" It was her turn to glance at me, like I was going to run through town shouting about their dark secret. I wanted nothing more than to forget it. Letting out her breath, she closed her fingers over mine. "Thank you," she whispered, tears blurring her grey-blue eyes.

I swallowed, pulled free of her grip and stood, retrieving my knife. Gathering my courage for what I was about to say, I closed the blade and put it in my pocket. "I'm glad he's okay, but I can't do this. I can't be part of this."

"Alex--"

"I'm forgetting as we speak. As far as I'm concerned, the last two days never happened." My heart hurt at the thought of putting aside the time I spent with Sam. After worshipping him from afar, I discovered that he was a normal, absolutely awesome guy. One I wanted to get to know better. That wasn't going to happen now. "Tell Sam I said goodbye."

"Alex, wait!"

I ran to my bike, ignoring Mrs. Emmett's voice, and rode away. From Sam, and any chance we might have had.

Hey--a girl can dream. And that's all I'm going to have now.

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# Five

I tried to get my life back on track, starting with dance class, which I usually had at least four days a week after school. This was my first step back to normal, and I wanted it to be, well, normal. A normal day, a normal class. Maybe if I kept repeating the word it would become real.

The last couple of days had forced me to skip, and I was more than a little anxious when I pulled into the parking lot of the dance studio. It was just down the coast, in a cute, bohemian beach town called Santa Luna. Someday I'd take the time to explore more than the studio and the attached theatre.

I walked inside, and joined the other students already warming up at the barre. I knew my eagle-eyed dance instructor, Madame Chloe, would immediately notice the bandage on my forearm, even with the attempt to hide it under my oversized warm up sweater. The woman never missed a thing.

Whether she said anything--or worse, put me on the sidelines right before the most important auditions of our winter performance season--had my nerves humming.

She could order me out, with no second chance. It would be the last straw for me. I'd endured this abuse for three years, because she was the best, and I would have to drive for an hour to get even close to the same level of master class.

So I hid at the back of the studio, doing my warm ups with my right side facing the door, and hoped for the best.

The tap tap of her stick warned us just before she appeared in the doorway. "Good afternoon, my beautiful dancers." I let out a breath. She was in a good mood today. "The auditions for A Midsummer Night's Dream are next weekend. In preparation, and to test your progress, today we will be dancing in the dark."

Some of the students groaned. I just closed my eyes, knowing she'd see my injury now. Especially if I slammed my arm into someone during a blind pirouette.

Dancing in the dark, as Madame Chloe so charmingly called it, was her own invention. Everyone danced in the dark room, wearing a blindfold, in order to better feel their partner's space, their rhythm. I've gotten more than one black eye out of the experience, and a nasty fall when my former partner decided to do a lift without any warning.

Oh, yeah--so looking forward to this.

Madame Chloe tapped her stick on the floor. "Partners, please." We paired up, and Madame started passing out the blindfolds. She paused next to me, her voice quiet, an unusual state for her. "I will know the reason for the bandage on your arm, Alexandrea." I held my breath. "After class. And I will be watching closely."

I nodded, letting out my breath when she kept moving. Ricky, my partner for the last six months, draped an arm over my shoulders. "I'll be careful with you, my beautiful dancer." I muffled a laugh at his spot on imitation of Madame's voice. "We'll do our pas de deux, okay?"

I nodded, relief easing my clenched muscles. Ricky was a great partner, and we had been practicing the pas de deux all summer in prep for the auditions. We seriously wanted to dance the roles of Titania and Oberon, together. Today would give Madame Chloe a preview.

Ricky helped me with my blindfold, since lifting my arm still hurt. Thankfully it wasn't my dominant arm, and most of our choreography had me leading with the right. I heard the light switch click, and the pale glow that filtered through the thick blindfold disappeared. Ricky took my hand, moved closer, so I'd know where he was.

Madame Chloe's voice rang out. "You will listen to Madame Chloe, focus on my voice. Now move, and feel your partner--keep your eyes closed, let the blindfold do its work. Listen, sense, touch. Find them, dance with them. You do not need to see to know. Now, to your partners!"

Feet shuffled, and more than one curse cut through the tense silence. We would dance without music, hearing the music of our hearts, as Madame so poetically told us. I turned, my left hand finding Ricky's waist, my feet between his.

We had practiced blind dancing a couple of times, sure that Madame would throw it at us before auditions week. I just didn't expect to have a bum arm when it happened.

I felt Ricky's curly hair brush my cheek. "Let me do the heavy lifting, chica."

"Okay."

He counted down from four in my ear--and lifted me, as smooth and easy as he did in rehearsals. "Going down now," he whispered.

And that's when it all went sideways.

My left forearm smacked against Ricky's shoulder, right on the stitches. The pain shooting up my arm distracted me enough that I lost my balance. Ricky must have felt me tipping--the hand meant to help slapped into my already screaming arm and I hit the floor.

"Alex--" He touched my cheek, then took off my blindfold. "Are you okay, chica?"

Madame Chloe spoke from across the studio before I could answer.

"Alexandrea, Ricky--you are excused for the day."

My heart skipped, then tried to jump into my throat.

Ricky's angry voice echoed around us. "You shouldn't have forced her to do this estupido exercise when you knew she was hurt!"

"Ricky." I didn't want anyone to know. Too late now.

All the other students were staring at my arm. I looked down, and saw blood spreading across my sleeve. Fabulous.

Madame stood, her cane tapping as she stalked over to us.

"You, boy, are impudent, overbearing, completely heathen--and more talented than you should be. I dismissed you," she knelt, and shocked the breath out of me when she touched my hand, her expression almost--kind. Madame Chloe didn't do kind--at least not to her students. "Because for you, boy, class is over for today. And for you, Alexandrea," I braced myself for her next words, my gut already knowing what she was about to say. She didn't disappoint. "This performance season is over, until spring."

I closed my eyes, tried to block out Ricky's furious voice as he argued with her, and the stares I knew were directed at me from the other dancers.

In one second, I was benched for the rest of the winter season.

So much for normal.

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# Six

The next two weeks became a blur of classes, Misty, and avoiding Sam.

The English project moved along, with Misty surprising and frustrating me in equal measure. I could handle both pretty well. It was Sam who unnerved me.

I did my best to keep under his radar--something that had always been easy before. Now he came looking for me, and easy turned into next to impossible. He was one determined, sexy, mouth-watering...

Sorry.

I managed to dodge him for those two weeks. Until Friday.

It was the week before Halloween, and in Emmettsville, that meant wild decoration time. We take Halloween seriously here.

Fog came off the ocean every day now, leaving the town shrouded until late morning, before it cloaked the town again after sunset. The perfect, spooky setting for a night of costumes and candy begging.

Even the high school kids, and more than a few adults, trick or treated here--it's like a town-wide party, with people creating scary mazes through their houses, or a dark cave in the garage. All because the founding Emmett believed in ghosts--or something supernatural.

Man, I loved Halloween. Normally.

This year, I planned to hide in my room, and pretend all the monsters roaming the streets were only humans in costumes.

You didn't need to hit me over the head for me to come to the conclusion that Jake was not the only monster out there. Something attacked him--and I'll eat my hoodie if Sam didn't get those scars on his shoulder from the same something.

Halloween took over the school as well. Every day this week some rah-rah was hanging another decoration along one of the halls. I wouldn't have gotten ambushed if I hadn't stopped after my last class, watching the perky cheerleaders tape up the most vomit-inducing, cutesy Dracula it has ever been my misfortune to lay eyes on.

Too late I saw Sam turn the corner. He halted as soon as he caught sight of me.

I seriously thought I'd feel different about Sam when I saw him again, knowing what I know. But he was just--Sam. Kind, funny, incredibly beautiful Sam.

Too late I remembered I was avoiding him. He grabbed me before I got halfway to the closest door.

"I need to talk to you."

He didn't give me the chance to say no, hustling me down the stairs--and not stopping until we reached the door to the basement--and the old boiler room.

The current school was built on the foundation of an ugly apartment building, and they left the boiler room intact. For storage. That so didn't happen. Something much worse did, however.

I was fine with the manhandling--okay, more than fine--but I drew the line at going through that door. Two dozen people died in that room ten years ago, after the supposedly disabled boiler caught fire during a Halloween party.

The town council decided to build the school on the same spot, after the apartment building burned down. Yeah, creepy. I try not to think about it.

"I am not going down there."

Sam blinked at me--then I saw him make the connection. "It's safe now. Has been since the fire. My dad had the boiler removed, along with anything that could heat, cool, or explode." He smiled down at me. I'm not ashamed to admit my knees turned to rubber. But I managed to stay upright, and I don't think he noticed. Much. "I want to be able to talk freely."

"Right," I said. He raised his eyebrows, obviously waiting for the go ahead. "Fine--you have five minutes."

He accepted the terms by nodding, then led me inside and down the short staircase.

I swallowed, hating the smell of damp concrete, laid over with the cleaning chemicals the school janitors stored here. It only took twenty-four dead people to finally get rid of the boiler, turn it into a safe storage room. I would have run if there was any sign of that boiler.

But Sam didn't lie--it was gone, leaving behind a big, black-edged square on the floor. I shuddered, all too aware of the reason for that outline.

Sam put himself between me and the former boiler's home, stopping next to the only window. Pushing hair off his face, he focused on the wall just past my shoulder. "I wanted to--thank you, for coming back, after Jake--"

"I didn't have a choice." That statement got his attention. He looked at me, grey-blue eyes narrowed. "I knew what he was going to do, and there was no way in hell I'd leave you there, unprotected." He relaxed. That wouldn't last long. "But this is it, Sam. I won't be part of your family secret. I can't," I whispered, still tasting the horror of facing Jake twice in two days. "I'm not cut out for that kind of constant adrenaline rush--"

"Alex--"

"Time's up." I sprinted for the small door.

"It's only been two minutes. You gave me five."

I halted, cursing under my breath, so close to freedom. "What?"

Yes, I was rude. I needed to be gone. I'd had two weeks of--

Oh, who was I kidding? I thought about what happened every second of those two weeks. I had been thrown into a waking nightmare, and I came out the other side. The high I got from that was addicting. I kept dodging it, dodging Sam, because I wanted more. And that scared me almost as much as Jake.

Sam moved across the room, and the look he gave me had me backing away from him. He had bad news written all over that gorgeous face.

"God," I whispered. "Just tell me, Sam, before I have heart failure."

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, finally spoke. "We can't find Jake."

My heart skipped several beats. "What?"

He let out a sigh. "Dad had a tracking chip on him, like the kind you use on pets, as well as a tracker on his car. We lost both signals."

Oh, sweet God above.

~ ~ ~

"Alex!"

Sam's voice chased me as I bolted. Call me a coward, but I already told his parents I wouldn't be part of this. I wanted to forget his family's personal, real-life nightmare, and go back to my blissful ignorance. I could live without the adrenaline high. Let them find Jake, while I found a deep, dark corner to hide in. Jake was not happy with me.

Realizing as I fled that I had to face up to my cowardice, or hate myself for running without an explanation, I slowed when I hit the last hallway, and waited for Sam next to the front doors.

The building was deserted, clearing out fast like it always does on Fridays. Empty hallways made running away much easier. Plus, Sam's injuries from his bout with Jake were obviously still healing. I never would have outrun him if he'd been at a hundred percent.

He was gasping when he skidded to a stop, sweat plastering hair to his flushed face. His too-flushed face.

"Hey." I caught his arm, and he started to sink to the floor. "Sam--crap." I reached for him and he toppled forward, his weight taking me down with him. Impact knocked the breath out of me. I fought to get it back--not easy with a tall, muscled athlete pinning me to the floor. Yeah, there I was, with Sam Emmett sprawled on top of me--and no witnesses. Life is not fair. "Sam?"

"Sorry," he whispered. His voice sounded like someone had been choking him. "Dizzy."

I did what would have been unthinkable only two weeks ago. I wrapped my left arm around Sam's broad shoulders, and held on to him as I carefully pushed off the floor with my right hand. By the time he slid off me and on to his right side, my still healing left arm was shaking from the weight. I ignored it, cradled the back of his head, and helped him ease on to his back.

My first glimpse of his chalk white face told me he needed more help than I could give. I got my legs under me, pulled my cell out of the front pocket of my jeans. Thankfully, Sam didn't mangle it when he fell on me. "I'm going to call your mom--"

"No." He grabbed my wrist, his fingers shaking. "Misty--she'll be out on the field--"

"A cheerleader can't..." My voice faded when I saw his left shoulder. Blood streaked his t-shirt. Right where his scars were. "Sam--you're bleeding."

"Observant, Sherlock." He let go of me, his eyes closing as he let his arm flop on the floor. "Misty knows--and she has a sister...med student--" A harsh cry cut him off. He grabbed his left arm, curling around the bloody shoulder.

I didn't bother calling. I ran, shoving the heavy front door open and sprinting through the empty faculty parking lot to the soccer field. Even at this distance, Misty looked perky, her blonde ponytail flying around her head as she cheered her cute butt off.

"Misty!" My dancer's lungs carried my voice across the parking lot and to the field. She stopped, looking around, and waved wildly when she spotted me. I still couldn't get over how enthused she was about us working on the project. She had even introduced me to the girls on the squad, much to their squirming embarrassment. I think she did it on purpose. "I need--"

Shoot--I didn't want broadcast Sam's condition, especially in front of a group of girls who were the biggest gossip hounds in school.

Misty made it easy by bounding over to me, her cheeks flushed. "Did I miss one of our project meetings... hey, is that blood?" She grabbed my left wrist, turned my hand over. I looked down and, sure enough, Sam bled on me. "You didn't--"

"It's Sam's," I said, my voice low. She blinked at me, then nodded.

"Where?"

I freed myself and ran back to the school, hearing her footsteps behind me. No questions, no wasting time. She still surprised me, as I slowly discovered the girl was smarter than she let on. Still an air-brain, but she had potential.

We reached the hallway, and found Sam unconscious. Misty crouched next to him, pressed two fingers to his throat. "Not good," she said. Whipping her phone out from I didn't want to know where, she started tapping. An older version of her appeared on the screen. "Hey, Candace--"

"Not now, Misty, I'm busy."

"I need your help. A friend of mine--"

"Sorry, no time to pat one of your dumb-dumb cheerleaders on the back because she just..." Her voice faded when Misty turned the phone toward Sam. "Where are you?"

Misty turned the phone back. "School, front hallway."

"I can't leave right now. Is he mobile?"

"We can manage."

"Meet me at the clinic."

"Got it. Thanks, Candi." She ended the call, and tucked her phone into a narrow pocket I hadn't noticed before, next to the seam in her skin tight workout pants. "Help me get him to my car. His pulse is thready, and when Candace reacts like she did, it's not good."

I helped her prop Sam up. He groaned, opening his eyes. "What... Misty. Hey."

"Hey, Sam. Candace is waiting on us."

He closed his eyes. "Okay. Not sure I can stand on my own."

"That's why we're here. Do what you can to help--I'm strong, but I'm no She-Hulk."

I stared at her. "No--what?"

"She-Hulk--Marvel comics, green super heroine?" She smiled, tightening her grip around Sam. "Little brother with a serious comic book addiction. Ready?"

I nodded, and we both lifted, pulling Sam to his knees. He used those impressive leg muscles to push himself up. Misty and I each took an arm, bracing him with every slow step.

The cement stairs leading down to the parking lot became a dangerous obstacle. There may have been only five, but they could cause some serious damage if Sam took a header down them.

Misty fidgeted and complained, but I forced Sam to take his time, be sure of his footing with every stair. We finally reached the bottom, and Misty took charge.

"Hold on to him. I'll get the car."

I tightened my grip on Sam, feeling damp cotton under my hand. Swallowing, I tilted my head just enough to see his back. Fresh blood blossomed over the left side, spreading, slowly but steadily.

"Crap," I said. Sam let out a breathless laugh. "It's not funny. You could be bleeding to death here."

"And you're so--calm and cool about it."

"Me?" I was as jumpy as a cat in a room full of tacks. Stop laughing--my favorite Aunt Agnes taught me that. Yes, the same one who bought me the fuchsia bathrobe. She's a nutcase and I love her like crazy. "You don't read people well. I'm scared out of my mind."

"It'll be all right." He lowered his head, sweat dripping off his chin. He looked anything but all right. "My scars can--reopen, around the anniversary of my--accident."

"Yeah, that's normal." Accident. Right. And wasn't the anniversary two weeks ago? He was attacked the same time as Jake--right?

He glanced over at me. "I like you, Alex Finch."

My heart did a tap dance against my ribs, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. I must have looked like a complete moron, staring at him, my mouth open. Before I could get the synapses in my brain to start firing again, Misty screeched to a halt in front of us and jumped out of her car.

"Let's get him in the back seat. He can lay on his good side, keep the blood flow away from his shoulder." She opened the back door of her BMW--yeah, you heard right--and moved around to the other side to help Sam slide in. "Get his legs up--good. Now let's book."

I got in on the passenger side, fastened my seat belt. Misty slid behind the wheel, all business now. I watched her buckle in and shove the car into gear.

"Okay," I said. "Who are you, and what did you do with Misty?" Laughing, she shot out of the parking lot, narrowly missing at least three cars as she squealed across lanes. I hung on to the oh-my-God bar over the door, afraid to close my eyes. I prefer to see my demise coming at me, even if I can't do anything about it. "God--we want to get to the clinic, Misty. Just not in a body bag."

"You're pretty cool. For a nerd." She smiled at me, her eyes a little--wild.

"Yeah? You're pretty smart. For a dumb cheerleader."

She took a left without using the brake, slamming me against the door. I decided to let her focus on getting us to the clinic alive and, please God, in one piece.

~ ~ ~

Candace waited for us on the sidewalk. Even in shapeless blue scrubs, she was gorgeous. I wanted to hate her on sight, but when she opened the back door and helped Sam out of the car with such obvious care and concern, I looked past the gorgeous, and got myself out to do what I could.

"Just focus on moving your feet, Sam," Candace said, her voice low and soothing. "Let me do the work." She glanced over at me. "You're Alex. Misty told me about you." No more info--good or bad, did I suck, was I a pain in her-- "What happened?"

"It's--"

"A recent injury," Sam whispered. He lifted his head long enough to glance at me, fear flaring across the pain in his grey-blue eyes. "Shouldn't be up yet."

"There's an understatement," Candace said. She didn't even break a sweat as she guided Sam inside. By the time we reached the small but immaculate lobby, she was practically carrying him. He looked ghastly, and I was terrified that he would do more than just collapse. A normal person does not have scars that bleed. "Misty, get that first door on the left open for me, and find Dr. Madsen--"

"No doctor." Candace raised her eyebrows at Sam's protest. "Please."

"Fine. For now. But if I say you need someone with more training, you don't get to say no again."

She didn't wait for him to answer, helping him on to the exam table before grabbing a pair of scissors off the counter. Sam cleared his throat, and Candace halted, the open scissors poised over his shirt.

"Can I get--some water first?"

Candace let out a sigh, put the scissors on the exam table. "Next time, just tell me you want some privacy. Who stays?" If I hadn't been working with Misty the last two weeks, I'd swear Candace got all the brains. Now I realized that smarts--and ridiculous gorgeousness--ran in the family.

Sam cleared his throat. "Alex."

Misty tugged on my sleeve. "I can help."

"That's up to Sam."

"Misty, I appreciate--damn." Sam grabbed his left arm.

"Out." Candace pried Misty off my sleeve and pushed her toward the door. "The sooner they share their secrets, the faster I can get to that injury. Five minutes," she said, glancing over her shoulder at Sam. "And be grateful I'm giving you that long." The door shut behind her, cutting off Misty's objections.

Sam took my hand. "I need you to bandage my shoulder. Please, Alex," he said, tightening his grip in anticipation of me pulling away. "I won't be able to explain a ten year old scar bleeding like it's fresh."

"Fine." I tugged my hand free. "We don't have much time. You're just lucky I have plenty of experience mopping up my own injuries." I searched the drawers in the cabinet against the wall, gathered antiseptic wash, gauze pads and tape. "Can you get your shirt off?"

In another life, I'd be saying that to dream Sam, hugging my pillow. Part of me was still waiting to wake up.

I had to help him, easing his left arm out of the sleeve, and lifting the bloody shirt enough to get at his shoulder. I swallowed a gasp when I got my first good look.

"Oh, Sam." The scars looked raw, fresh.

"Just--patch me up, Alex. Please."

Once I started cleaning his shoulder, I understood his need to hurry.

Only part of each scar bled; the rest was as faded as I remembered when I first saw them. I poured the antiseptic over his shoulder, clenched my teeth when he gasped, and kept going. We were fast running out of time.

After drying him off with one of the gauze pads, I laid another one over the scars and taped it down, then helped him pull his shirt on. Right before Candace marched in. One look at the discarded supplies on the exam table told her everything.

"You bleed out, and you only have yourself to blame." She turned on one heel and stalked out. "Thanks for wasting my free hour, Misericord."

Misty flinched. "Don't call me that!"

"Stop calling me for pointless reasons, and I'll think about it."

I had the distinct feeling she wouldn't be hearing the end of this for some time.

"She hates not being in charge," Misty said, forcing a smile. "You're really okay, Sam?"

"Worse than it looked. Thanks for taking care of me. Misericord."

She choked. "If you ever tell anyone--"

"Misericord," I said. "As in the small wooden shelf under the folding seats in old churches?"

"No." She looked surprised that I knew such a random fact, and embarrassed. "As in the name of the main character from my mom's favorite book. I had to resort to blackmail to keep it off my school records."

"What did you do?" I had to know what a five-year-old could threaten two adults with to make them back off.

Misty smiled. "Threatened to tell all the neighbors I was the love child of Mom and her hairstylist."

I laughed so hard I started choking. Once I recovered, I rested one hand on her shoulder. "It'll stay our secret," I glanced over at Sam. "Won't it."

He held up one hand, flinching at the movement. "I never heard a thing."

"Revenge will be swift and painful," she said, through teeth clenched so tight I expected them to crack. I smiled at her threat. "I mean it, Alex."

"That's why I'm smiling."

"Oh." Her eyes widened. "Oh. You're proud."

"As a new parent."

Laughter bubbled out of her. Yes--bubbled. Cheerleader. She sobered, studied us. "You're okay, Sam? You were really out of it."

"Yeah. I had a run-in with my cousin." His gaze skated to me, then to the floor. Always easier to lie when they can't see your eyes. "He managed to hit the same spot I injured in practice last week."

Misty frowned. "But you weren't--"

I talked over her, to distract her, and get us moving. "Let's go. I don't want to be here when your sister comes back."

"Right."

As she led the way to the front door, I looked over at Sam, kept my voice low enough for only him to hear, and threw his own words back at him. "I need to talk to you."

He swallowed, and walked out ahead of me, his back tense under the bloody t-shirt.

Two weeks ago, I wouldn't have had the nerve to say hi. Now I was ordering him around.

How quickly life can get strange.

~ ~ ~

"Alex, we don't have time for this." I ignored Sam and kept pushing him down the sidewalk. "Alex--"

"We are going to my house, where you are going to sit, and eat enough to keep you from walking into walls."

"But--"

"You need to eat, Sam." He looked down at me, those clear grey-blue eyes studying me like I was a specimen in Biology class. "What?"

"You're not afraid of me anymore."

"I wasn't--" To my horror I could feel heat spreading across my cheeks. With my pale skin it was always an extra embarrassment when I blushed.

"Hey, wait up!" Misty's interruption was more welcome than she could ever imagine. Until she opened her mouth. "I'm coming with you."

Both Sam and I talked over each other.

"You have no idea--"

"It's none of your business--"

"It is so my business," she snapped, crossing her arms. Trust me on this--don't ever get a cheerleader riled. All that rah-rah bubbling goes right out the window. "Who else got chased down by a giant hairy something? And lost three inches of hair trying to escape? Three inches!"

"Misty." Sam moved to her, looking less like a potential corpse, and more like the gorgeous hunk of--right. Back on track. "We don't have time for this. I need to talk to Alex, and you can't be here."

Wow. Sam could have slapped her and Misty wouldn't have looked more surprised.

"This conversation is not over." She stomped to her car, and spun around, pointing a finger at Sam. "So get your priorities straight, because next time I'm not taking any excuses."

Sam and I stared at each other after she left.

"She has a point," I said. "I'd want to know what the hell tried to tear me into tiny morsels and eat me." The courage that had pushed me through the day drained out of me as he continued to watch me, not saying a word. I crossed my arms, to keep from checking to see if I had something sticking out of my nose. "Sam?" My voice came out a nervous squeak. The usual tone when I was in his presence.

"I really want you to stay out of this, Alex--for good. But I need your help."

He touched my arm. It sent a shock through my system that left me breathless. And terrified. The easy to live with crush was starting to morph--to become something not so easy to live with.

I backed out of further Sam-touching range. "I can't--"

His cell phone rang. Sam fumbled it out of his back pocket with his left hand and looked at the display. "It's my mom." He swiped to answer it. "Hey, Mom, what did you--" She obviously cut him off, and the panic flashing in his grey-blue eyes told me it wasn't good news. "No, I can meet you at home. I've got my car at school. I'll see you soon."

He ended the call, clutching the phone. Hair curtained his face as he lowered his head.

"Sam?" I didn't want to know, but the pain coming off him hurt me, and I couldn't let him bear it alone. "Talk to me."

His shoulders slumped, and he raised his head. The despair on his face had my heart pounding.

"Jake just attacked one of our neighbors, and he's on the run."

~ ~ ~

I pressed my back to the wall of the clinic, just to feel something real. "Are you sure it was--"

"The first time he changed, he attacked our gardener, nearly killed him." Sam pushed both hands through his hair. "Dad had him tagged with the tracker, and sent him to our estate in Northern England, near the border of Scotland. Acres of field and forest between him and any innocent."

"That's where he's been all this time?" Sam nodded. "What is he doing here?"

"He wants his freedom, and threatened Dad, telling him the consequences would weigh on his soul if he refused."

"You don't think--he wouldn't--" My overactive imagination had my voice choking off.

"I think--God, I'm hoping it's just a warning to my parents, to get what he wants. I'm going after him."

"No." I stepped in his path, shocked by my bold move. Sam looked just as surprised. "You can't, not alone. You can hardly stand up straight."

"Come with me."

"What? No." I backed away from him, terrified at the thought of facing Jake again. My luck would only hold out so long. "I'm not like you. I can't--"

"You have good instincts, you can think under pressure, and you have the fastest reflexes I've seen in a long time. Please." He reached for me, and gasped at the movement. My gaze skated up to his shoulder. He was bleeding again. "If Jakes hurts anyone else, I don't think I can--"

He cut himself off and turned away from me.

Normally I would have been faint with joy at him needing me. But not for this. I was terrified of Jake, of not surviving the next time I ran into him.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I can't." He swallowed, nodding. "I'm so sorry, Sam."

"It's not your burden to carry, Alex. I never should have asked." He brushed stray hair off my cheek. I stilled, those familiar tingles shooting through me from the point of contact. Towering over me, so close I could feel his body heat, Sam studied me, his grey-blue eyes all I could see, all I wanted to see. I think my heart stopped beating and I started to hallucinate, because I swore he leaned in, his breath warm on my face, his lips getting closer to mine--close enough to touch. "Alex..."

A loud throat-clearing had us jerking apart. Candace leaned against the doorway of the clinic, arms crossed. "Sorry to interrupt, but isn't that your dad?"

She pointed at a black car dodging through traffic--a sleek black Bugatti. Only one man owned that car.

Sam pushed past me and started running.

"Sam!" Candace and I both shouted after him, and I followed, waiting for him to collapse. Instead of chasing after his dad, he flagged down a taxi. It sped away before I could reach him.

"Hey." Candace touched my shoulder. "He'll be okay. Let's get the rest of that blood off your hands, and I'll take you home."

I let her lead me away, my mind blank, and every step heavy.

Sam was far from okay. And I knew, in my gut, he was headed straight for Jake.

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# Seven

Candace dropped me off, and raised an eyebrow when I thanked her.

"For letting you treat my patient and waste my only break? My pleasure." She flashed a smile that softened the sarcasm. I had to learn how to do that. "Make sure he doesn't need my services again soon. Finishing my surgical rotation is exhausting enough, without moonlighting on top of it. And take care with your arm--it's far from healed."

I stared at her. She was observant. "Okay. Thanks again."

"Any time--just make that any time after the holidays." She touched my shoulder. "Keep me in the loop. Sam is a mystery, and I do love mysteries. Now shoo."

I got out of the car, dragging by the time I reached the front door. Thank heaven my parents were in L.A. for a design thing. I could be miserable and in pain without an audience.

Just as I closed the front door a voice filtered out from the kitchen. Dad's voice. So much for private misery time. "Sweetheart, is that you?"

"Yes, Dad."

He appeared in the doorway, smiling. Dad smiled most of the time, counteracting Mom's constant worrying. They were the perfect yin yang couple. "Do anything special today?"

No demands of where I'd been, why I was late, no threat of grounding. I had earned their trust a long time ago by telling them the truth, and sharing my life. Most of it, anyway.

It may sound geeky, but my parents are beyond cool, and actually fun to hang out with. I could tell them anything, which made this whole scenario a nightmare for me. Because I was forced, again, to do what I've almost never done: lie to them.

"Hey, Dad." I smiled. At least it felt like a smile. "What are you doing home?"

"The convention was all design this year. Your mom is in heaven, so I left her there with her cohorts, figuring we could have a father-daughter night."

"Okay." I tried to sound upbeat. But even I knew I failed miserably.

"Alex." Dad proved me right. He moved forward, rubbed my back, and I could tell by his frown that he felt the vibes coming off me. "Let's go sit down."

He slipped his arm around my waist as we headed into the living room, still holding on when we sat on the sofa, so I ended up almost in his lap. Like I was still his little girl, he gathered me up and hugged me, his strong arms a safe haven. And I finally let go, every muscle unclenching.

"Dad..."

"I know something is going on, Alex." He tucked my head under his chin, and I pressed my face against his chest, fighting the tears that burned my eyes. He always made me feel so loved, without being overbearing or weird. "I'm here if you want to talk about it."

"Dad--I don't--"

"It has to do with Sam Emmett, doesn't it?" I pulled back, looked into his eyes. I inherited the clear, dark blue eyes and unruly brown hair, but not his height. Since both my parents are tall, and all my relatives, I obviously got the short gene from some ancestor.

"How--"

"Your mom told me about him bringing you home after your accident. I was surprised you were friendly with him. He's a good kid, but his family has always kept themselves apart, especially since the boiler accident."

"The one at the school?" He nodded. Ten years ago--it happened ten years ago. I did a mental head slap. Why didn't I see the connection before? It happened not long after the attack on Jake and Sam. On Halloween. There had to be a reason. I let out a sigh, and added the question to my ever growing list. "Dad, can I ask you something?"

"Always, twinkle toes." I smiled at the old nickname. He used it when I was down like this, and only used it in private. Unlike Mom--who would shout my full name across a crowded mall if she thought it would get my attention. "Ask away."

"If there was something you had to do--in your job, or on a site," I added, trying to make it more about him and less about me. "If that something meant helping other people, even if you might get hurt, would you do it?"

He studied me, so long I could feel a blush spreading over my cheeks. "Is this life or death help?"

I swallowed. "It could be."

Big, work hardened hands closed over my shoulders. "What have you stepped in, Alex?"

"I can't--" God, this was so hard. I wanted to blurt it out, to get his input, his level headed reasoning. "I can't tell you. I made a promise."

"Okay." Letting me go, he leaned back against the sofa. "My instinct is to protect you, sweetheart, because I'm your dad and that's my job. My most important job." He took my hand. "Your mom would lock you in your room and hire an armed guard." I choked out a laugh, fighting off the tears his words pushed closer to the surface. "I just want you to be safe, whatever you decide. You're growing up so fast, Alex. I want to keep making choices for you, but this one is your own to make."

I sighed. I so wanted him to make this for me, or forbid me to do anything. I wanted him as the fall guy when I tried to justify not helping Sam find Jake before he hurt someone else. None of it was working the way I'd hoped.

"I don't know what to do," I whispered.

"Just promise me you won't let anyone force you into making a choice." He cradled my cheek. "And come home to us Alex. Always come home."

That was when I finally lost it. I crawled into his lap, letting his strength hold me up when I wanted to fall apart. It was one promise I couldn't make.

Because if I said yes to Sam, I didn't know if I would come home.

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# Eight

With my throat still raw, and my stitched arm itching like crazy, I pulled my British racing green MG Roadster to a stop in front of the Emmett mansion an hour after Dad and I talked.

A gift from Dad on my sixteenth birthday, I only drove it when I needed to get somewhere in a hurry, or when it was not smart to ride my bike. This occasion met both criteria. I had even taken the soft top off, pretending it was a pleasure drive.

With a shaky breath, I walked to the front door, every step slower. I had finally made a decision--and I had to tell Sam before I lost my nerve. I wasn't a hero for heaven's sake, I was a teenager with loner tendencies who spent more time talking to my laptop than other people.

All excuses, but I would take them, use them, to get me out of this.

The door flew open just as I raised my hand to the doorbell. Mrs. Emmett bolted out and almost knocked me over.

"Alex?" She gripped my upper arms, so hard I knew I'd find bruises there later. "Have you seen Sam?"

Her panic jolted through me, sparked my own. And I couldn't say anything without lying to her, or telling her that Sam had probably gone after Jake. So I decided on a half-truth. "Not since after school."

Mrs. Emmett dragged me after her. "Is that your car? You can drive. I need to track his phone." I never had a chance to refuse; she had me in the car and headed down the driveway before I could think beyond keeping my car on the right side of the road.

"Mrs. Emmett--"

"Call me Evelyn." She kept her gaze glued to a small device in her hands. "How long ago did Sam leave you?"

"About two hours. Maybe more."

"Damn--" She added a few more swear words, expanding my personal vocabulary. "He could be anywhere by now. He was supposed to come straight home." She pushed hair off her face, shifted the crossbow I had only noticed after she slid into the low two seater MG, when it was too late to do anything--like drive away before she could drag me into this. "He promised he would--here," she said, her voice sharp. "Turn left here."

I barely made the turn, downshifting and screeching across lanes, pissing off more than a few drivers to do it. I was too scared for Sam to worry about road etiquette.

We bumped down a two lane gravel road, the loose rocks bouncing off the low underside of my car. I could mourn the damage to my paint job later.

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 she and Mr. Emmett 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's 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, had 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 idea 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 . . .

The crossbow still in my car. Along with any blood he and his mom may have smeared on the passenger seat, or the door--

"Damn." I pulled off the nightgown and got dressed again. I would have to wait until Dad went to bed, and then I had some clean up to do. I just hoped I'd be able to do it in the dark, and figure out where I was going to hide a giant crossbow.

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# Nine

Misty refused to leave me alone. And because we were partners on the English project, she had more opportunities to badger me. By the time we hit study period in the library I was ready to strangle her. Or lure her out to my car and hit her over the head with the crossbow I wedged into my tiny trunk.

I finally dragged her to an empty corner to tell her to shut up. She started talking before I could open my mouth.

"You have to tell me, Alex." Her high-pitched whisper set my nerves on edge. "I'm part of this. You weren't the only one nearly ripped apart by--"

"Not. Another. Word."

Her blue eyes widened. She backed away from me, pressed into the corner. "But--"

"Not here, Misty." I let out a sigh. There was no way out of this one, and I'd never hear the end of it if she discovered after the fact. "I'll call you tonight, and tell you what I can then. Okay?"

She did a double air punch with imaginary pom poms. "Hey, I have an idea." She lowered her arms. "I can drive you home, and we'll talk at your house."

"I have my car here."

"You drove to school?" Her gaze shot down to my arm. "Are you--"

"I'm fine. I have to run an errand, and I didn't want to go home first."

"Will Sam be there?"

My stomach twisted at the mention of his name. He wasn't in school today, and I was terrified his absence meant his mom hadn't made it.

"Earth to Alex." I looked up at Misty, startled by the concern on her face. "Hey--what happened? You look like someone died."

"Nothing. I'm tired, and my arm itches like crazy. Thanks, Misty." I surprised both of us with that.

"Now I know you're not okay." She studied me, then shook her head. "You need to go home, get some real sleep. You haven't really looked good since--you know what."

"Thanks, Misty." We both smiled, and for the first time, talking to her didn't feel awkward. "Once my arm decides to stop itching like I have some disease, I should be able to get a decent night's sleep."

She wrinkled her nose. "Can I just say--eeewwwww." She led the way back to our table, so clearly the private part of the conversation was over. "Why don't I take the notes in case you don't show tomorrow...oh." She blinked at the flat stare I gave her, and flipped her blonde braid over one shoulder. "Never mind."

"I'll make copies for you."

I gathered up the pile of notes, thanked myself for writing them out on the same size paper, and headed over to the copy machine. That was allowed, since copiers predated the current technology boom. If the school librarian, Mrs. Swiller, could destroy every computer at school, she'd be swinging a sledgehammer in a hot second. Instead, she glared at them, and forbid their use during study periods.

With a sigh, I straightened my pile and stuck it in the automatic feeder, hitting the start button. My phone buzzed, vibrating against my right hip. I leaned against the side of the copier and eased it out, careful not to let the technophobic librarian see me. My heart stilled when I saw Sam's number on the screen.

Knowing I'd get my phone taken away if I were caught, I moved around the copier, and headed into the reference section right behind it, practically running as soon as I was out of sight. I wedged myself into the far corner and answered.

"Sam?"

"She's okay, Alex." I could hear the exhaustion, and the relief in his voice. "My mom is going to be okay."

"Oh, thank God." I slid down the wall, tucking my knees under my chin. Lowering my voice, I held the phone close. "I'm in study period, so I can't talk long. I'm meeting my dad at the county records office after school. He's using his access card to get me in, so I'll check for any place Jake might be using as a hideout."

There was a long pause. "Can I tag along?"

He tried to sound casual, but I knew how important this was. We had to find Jake.

"That should be okay. My dad likes you, so I don't see a problem."

"Your dad likes me." The humor in his comment had panic squeezing my throat, so I couldn't interrupt, or keep him from continuing. "That's good to know. So I can join your plan-hunting party?"

"I--" My voice came out a strangled, unintelligible squeak. A squeak. Heat flamed my face.

"I'll take that as a yes. Alex," I could hear the smile in his voice. "Thank you for brightening my day."

He ended the call. I lowered the phone, staring at it, my mind completely blank. I didn't even have anything left to panic. Which I should have been doing, with gusto.

Sam Emmett knows how I feel about him!

There it was--my mind coming back online and into full panic mode.

I pushed off the floor, shoving my phone in my pocket out of habit--right before I ran head on into Mrs. Swiller.

"This is not a playground, Miss Finch." Did I mention she doesn't like me much? Yeah--too many clandestine trips to the computer when I was supposed to be "resting my mind from the ravages of technology." I knew she wanted to grab me and drag me back to my designated seat, but she had been warned--repeatedly--that she was not allowed to manhandle the children. "Return to your seat, before I am forced to report you to your teacher."

I nodded, afraid of what might come out of my mouth if I dared open it. I stopped long enough to grab my notes and the copies, earning another glare. Along with every book in the school library, Mrs. Swiller had an unnatural attachment to the copier.

She moved back to the low counter where we checked out books, and I could have sworn I saw her brush her hand over one of the computers. No--she hated them with a passion most people reserved for good things. Like chocolate. I was definitely seeing things.

I shrugged it off and headed back to the table, where Misty was doing her best to read the book for our project. I had her put it on her ereader, so she couldn't tear out pages in frustration. I knew she didn't enjoy the experience, but since I'd already written enough notes to choke an elephant, she gave in pretty quickly. After all, I already did most of the grunt work.

She looked up when I sat, setting the ereader on the table. "You still have your head on. She seems pretty mild today."

"Nothing she could accuse me of. Except breathing, or looking at the computers, or breathing."

Misty burst out laughing, smothering it with her hand as Mrs. Swiller's head bounced up, her gaze scoping out the culprit. I shifted, hiding Misty until she composed herself. Like we were friends. I had to sit back, wrap my mind around that one.

The populars and I did not get along. It was against the natural laws of high school. Me geek, her cheerleader. Nope--not computing.

"Hey--you in there, Alex?" I blinked at her, feeling like I'd stepped out of the familiar and into the strange. As if finding out about Jake wasn't enough strange in my life. "Time to go. Didn't you hear the bell?"

I shook my head, gathered up my notes and stuffed them in my backpack. Study period was my last class today, so I pushed past the other kids avoiding their next class until the last second, and sprinted to the parking lot. The sooner I got to those plans, the sooner I could find Jake.

That last thought stopped me in my tracks. And I closed my eyes when I realized it was true.

I wanted to help Sam. I wanted to be part of this.

I was so screwed.

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# Ten

Dad waited for me near the glass front doors of the county records office. It was housed in a small brownstone, built when the first Emmett had created his little kingdom by the sea. An ugly square box, it held every scrap of paper that detailed the history of our humble beach town.

Pushing off the wall, Dad held out his hand. "I have the plans laid out for you. I figured you for impatient, and not liable to wait quietly while the clerk pulled them."

"I should be insulted, but you know me too well."

"I'd also like to look over them with you."

He had me trapped, and he knew it. Any excuse I made now would look suspicious.

"Okay."

Laughing, he kissed the top of my head. "I promise, your reputation as a parent-avoiding teenager will remain intact."

"Hilarious, Dad." Trying not to scratch at my arm, I followed him inside.

I didn't think it was possible, but the inside was even uglier and more drab than the ugly, brown box outside. And brown seemed to be the decorating color of choice, down to the shirt and tie on the rail thin clerk. He studied me, like I was going to pillage his precious records. I was thankful for Dad's presence now, and that he dealt with having the plans pulled before I got here.

My polite filter didn't always work around adults. Especially condescending adults.

Dad smiled at the clerk and dragged me past the counter, all too aware of my mouth. He let me go once we were out of sight, and waved me into a small, windowless room.

Long rolls of paper rested on a desk pushed against the side wall, one of them spread out on the huge table in the middle of the room. I recognized the straight lines and markings; I grew up scribbling on Dad's old or discarded plans and blueprints, creating my own two-dimensional fantasy houses.

"I couldn't wait for you," Dad said, bending over what looked like the layout of a town. "This is Emmettsville, circa 1900." He pointed to the main street. "Does this look familiar?"

I studied it, frowning. "No. This isn't Main Street. Not our Main Street."

"Got it in one." He smiled at me, and the tension from my conversation with Sam slowly unknotted. "Tell me what else you see."

I scrutinized the plans. Streets that should have run north-south twisted and rambled, turning our ruler-straight grid of downtown into a rabbit warren. "I don't get it--this isn't what's outside."

Dad grabbed another roll off the desk, laid it out next to the first one. "Now look at this one."

The familiar streets popped out, the grid of downtown, and the maze of old town. I looked at the date. 1902. "The town was founded in what, 1895? Why are these so different? Was the first one a rejected plan of town?"

"That's what I thought. Until I saw this." Dad held down the corner of the skewed plans, next to the date. I gasped, watching a thin piece of foolscap curl away from the corner. Underneath it was another date, and another name. 1890, Hyattown. "Looks like we weren't here first."

"Hyatt--as in the Hyatts?" The Hyatts were the other local old money family, but most of their business was international. Mrs. Hyatt volunteered at the theatre where my dance company performed. Mr. Hyatt was a major donor--and one of the angriest, most bitter men I'd ever met. "Are you saying--Emmett built over this town?" I pointed at the floor. "That it's down there?"

"It was common practice, Alex. Especially when it was more cost effective to cover up rather than tear down. I'm sure old Emmett had another motive, since he crowed about buying the land and the existing buildings from his rival Mick Hyatt for a song."

"What?" I'd never heard this bit of trivia. It was common knowledge that Emmett bought the land, but even the local history claimed it was undeveloped. "I thought--"

"So does everyone else. It's one of those sneaky little history rewrites. I'm sure Emmett figured it was bad publicity--especially since the original town was deserted."

"Deserted--as in ghost town deserted? We live on top of a ghost town?" This new, disturbing fact completely freaked me out.

He smiled, rubbing my arm. "Looks like. It's hardly a tragedy, Alex. We would have heard a long time ago if there were actual ghosts under our feet." His smile faded. "However, if someone alive is coming and going without detection, there's a good chance they are using whatever is left of the old town, and the abandoned sewer system I found."

My heart sank as I studied a schematic he laid over the plans. No simple tunnel system, or abandoned sewer. Jake had an entire town to hide in, and another level underneath it.

"Thanks, Dad. Is it possible to get copies--" He picked up the final roll. I was afraid I would have to beg for them, and supply answers I promised not to divulge. "You are too good to me." I reached for it, and he held it over his head. So much for easy, with no questions. "Dad--"

"One question, Alex. Answer it, and they are yours." Swallowing, I nodded. "Is this dangerous?"

I closed my eyes briefly. When I looked at Dad again, I knew my reaction answered it for him. "It's important. I can't--" I stumbled over just telling him I couldn't tell him.

"Alex." He pressed the roll of plans in my palm, and closed his big, calloused hands over mine. Growing up, his touch always made me feel safe, protected. This time it left me feeling isolated. And I hated it, hated Sam for putting me in this awkward position. "You know you can trust me, with anything. And you earned our trust, by always being upfront, even when it wasn't in your best interest." I managed a smile, even with tears stinging my eyes. "Whatever you can tell me won't leave this room. I know your mom has a tendency to overreact."

"There's the understatement of the year," I said. He smiled, and pulled me over to the chairs tucked up against the wall. I knew what he was doing, and I wasn't sure I could keep putting him off. "Dad--"

"Talk to me, Alex." He sat me down, and moved his chair until we were knee to knee. "We're not leaving until you do."

I let out a sigh, and avoided his gaze by staring down at the copies clutched in my hands. "I signed a confidentiality agreement."

"And who coerced you to sign it?" My head snapped up at the anger in his voice. You have to understand something about my dad--he is the most easygoing, even tempered human being I have ever met. He just doesn't do anger. To say I was shocked wouldn't even touch my reaction. "Talk, Alex. Now."

Startled by his temper, I did. I told him everything, from the moment I heard that growl on the porch, to what happened yesterday with Sam and his mom, along with my vague theory about the boiler room fire. Everything except the fact that Sam had been attacked, and that Jake actually was the monster. I couldn't do that to Sam.

By the time I finished, I felt this weight lift off me. Dad sat back in his chair, arms crossed, and a kick butt frown on his face. "Dad? You believe me, don't you?"

"God, Alex--I wish I didn't." Leaning forward, he brushed hair off my face. "You've always had a vivid imagination, but you never confused it with reality." Panic flared in his eyes and he reached for my left arm. "That injury isn't from--"

"A rusty can." I had already gotten the tetanus shot, from the free clinic in old town. "It's okay, Dad--he didn't get close enough to--"

"Alex." Sam's voice froze me in the chair.

Dad had the opposite reaction.

With an angry shout I had never heard before, he lunged out of the chair and pinned Sam against the wall. "What the hell did you drag my daughter into?"

Sam didn't even flinch. After facing off with Jake, Dad probably seemed as menacing as a house cat. "I am sorry, Mr. Finch. It's my fault Alex got involved. If I can take the plans with me, it will end here."

I stared at him, those grey-blue eyes so calm as they met Dad's furious glare. And I realized I was seriously, no going back, in love with Sam Emmett.

God help me.

"Alex?" Dad's voice snapped me back. Both of them looked at me like I missed a chunk of conversation I was supposed to be part of.

"Can you repeat the--question?" I hoped it was a question, because I heard nothing.

Dad pressed his lips together, a sure sign he was trying not to smile. "Sam wants to do some preliminary exploring. I was just telling him you can go along--"

"Really?"

His "uh oh" smile appeared. I braced myself. "As long as I go with you."

And there it was. The condition that always came with that smile.

I took in a deep breath, prepared for the backlash after my next words. "I don't want you involved in this."

Dad stalked forward, pulling me after him as he headed for the far side of the room. Instead of the anger I expected, he looked--scared. "Do you think I want you part of this, Alex? Just your description of that monster is going to give me nightmares. It's my job to protect you, to stand between you and danger--even unbelievable danger." He rubbed his face. "Your mom would kill me for even thinking of letting you do this. And you are not going without me."

"Dad--"

"Both of us, Alex. Or we hand the plans over to Sam and go home."

It was my turn to rub my face. Dad was an architect. Sure, he'd spent his college years in construction, and did all the renovations at home, but he spent more time in front of his computer than at a work site.

Then again, I had no idea I could swing a makeshift bat at a monster until I had no choice. I sure didn't get those nerves from Mom. She freaked out over a hangnail.

"I can't let Sam do this alone," I said.

"Then it's decided. I have flashlights in the truck."

He headed for the door, stopping long enough to speak to Sam, who looked at me and smiled. My heart stuttered, and I understood that these new, deeper feelings for Sam left me wide open for pain. And heartache.

"Are you coming with us, Alex?" Dad's amused voice snapped me back. I could feel the embarrassment rush over my face. The downside of pale skin; it shows everything.

"Yeah." I cleared my throat and followed them out, raising my eyebrows as the clerk glared at us, then at the clock. It was one minute after five. "Really? Am I going to get a citation now, or just a nasty warning because you had to stay one lousy minute over--"

"Alex." Dad grabbed my hand and pulled me after him. "Thank you for the last minute rush job, Larry. It was time sensitive, and I'll put in a good word with your supervisor for your dedication and service."

The glare disappeared. "Thanks, Mr. Finch." He hustled around the counter, keys jingling in one hand. "I'll just lock up after you so no one thinks we're still open." I was barely out the door before he shoved it closed.

"You're not going to actually reward his nasty attitude, are you?"

Dad let out a sigh and turned to face me. "I need to deal with these people, Alex. So yes, I am going to tell his boss he went above and beyond, because he did. I'm guessing his attitude has already been noted, more than once."

"Sorry." I wanted to say more, but I'd already spewed enough. And Sam heard every word. I forgot about him being here in the heat of my indignation.

Dad squeezed my hand and flashed me a smile. "Wouldn't have you any other way."

That made me feel better, if not any less mortified. I kept my eyes forward, to avoid accidentally seeing any reaction from Sam--and caught sight of Misty, bouncing up and down next to my car and waving her arms.

She danced over, her long braid flapping around her. "What did you find out? Where are you going that you need flashlights? Can I go with you?"

I glanced over at Dad, who held three flashlights, and shrugged at me. With a sigh, I turned back to her. "How did you find me?"

"I followed you. How else would I find anything out? Please tell me I can go with you." She grabbed my hand, looking so excited I couldn't find it in my heart to refuse her.

"You may not want to, once you know where we're going and why."

Sam took pity on me, took Misty aside, and quietly explained to her. Dad distracted me by handing me one of the flashlights.

"I don't expect to find much down there," he said. "There was probably a good amount of backfill, to create the foundation for the new buildings."

"We just need to find out if it's possible for him to hide down there. Where are the sewers?"

"In relation to the old town?" He took my arm, led me over to Sam and Misty, who looked scared, but just as determined to join us. "Not sure, since I used the entrance near the library for my exploration. This sewer system has tunnels spreading out everywhere, some of them far beyond the town limits--"

"Dad." If I didn't stop him now, he would have gone on for hours. Trust me, I've been there.

"Right." He winked at me, and I knew he forgave the interruption. "What I do know from studying the schematic is this--there is an entrance nearby. Just behind the McGinty house."

I shuddered, not able to stop my reaction. Misty took my hand and gave it a squeeze, which oddly enough, made me feel better. She must have been just as freaked to be going back there, and after dark on top of it.

"We're ready, sir," Sam said. I met his eyes, and he raised his eyebrows. "Right?"

"Yeah." I swallowed. "Ready."

"Okay." Dad flashed me a smile. "Let's go find out where it leads."

Uh, oh. I knew that tone--it was Dad's "I'm ready to solve a mystery" tone. My heart pounded harder, this time with dread. He wouldn't let go of this until he got his answers.

The McGinty house was in walking distance, in the neighborhood on the other side of the records office. One of the good/bads of small towns--everything was close together. Sometimes too close.

We headed out, clouds from over the ocean rushing in to gloom up the sunset. It added a little too much atmosphere for my taste.

I stayed with Dad, and Misty latched on to Sam. For some reason, I didn't want to scratch her eyes out in irrational jealousy. They made the perfect couple; like the photo next to the entry in the dictionary perfect.

With my lack of jealousy came another revelation--one I hadn't paid attention to in my worship/avoidance dance for the last ten years.

Sam didn't date. Anyone. I figured I never heard his name linked with a girl because I traveled so far outside their circle I wouldn't have heard a riot. But he never spent time with a girl, not in the relationship sense. Friends, yes--Sam was the most popular of the populars.

Looking at his left shoulder, I had a sinking feeling I knew why.

Dad stopping brought me back to our immediate goal.

The familiar, rusted wrought iron fence had me reminding myself to breathe. Dad opened the gate, and led us around back to a dirt-crusted bronze manhole--just feet from the window we used to escape.

"Here," he said, as he crouched next to the once decorative cover, handing his flashlight up to me. "I'll need your help, Sam."

Together they shifted the heavy cover out of its home, and inched it across the dirt. Sam favored his left arm, which told me his shoulder still hurt. Or something else had happened to him, something he couldn't tell me--

I really had to stop creating these scenarios in my head. I was going to give myself nightmares.

"I'll go first." Dad turned and lowered himself to the steel ladder, one hand reaching up for the flashlight. "Alex, you follow me, then Misty. Sam will take the rear. No one wanders past the ground right under this hole. Understood?"

I nodded, saw Sam and Misty do the same. Satisfied, Dad climbed down, slowly disappearing into the darkness. I clutched my flashlight, waiting for him to shout the all clear, praying it wouldn't be a shout of alarm, or a scream.

"He'll be okay, Alex." Sam moved to my side, watching the hole. "Jake isn't the most subtle attacker. But you already know that--"

"Wait." Misty grabbed Sam's arm. "The thing that attacked us--was Jake? Your cousin Jake?" His face drained of color. He was so used to talking to me freely, he obviously forgot Misty didn't know all the details. "Your certifiable cousin Jake?" She started to sound hysterical.

"Misty." She whirled, swinging her flashlight at me. I caught her wrist, got in her face. "Misty."

She blinked, her eyes focusing. "I'm okay. Sorry." She backed down, and I let her go. "I didn't--that is so not processing, and I panicked. Especially since we're standing right here." She waved at the backyard, just feet away from our escape. Her gaze shot to the manhole. "We're looking for him down there, aren't we?"

I nodded, and glanced over at Sam. "What did you tell her?"

"That we were checking out a theory. And it could be dangerous." He crossed his arms. "I couldn't tell her any more than that."

Dad's voice filtered up from the hole. "Come on down!"

Unlike the famous game show, I didn't think we were going to have the chance to win a fabulous prize.

Misty pushed past me, standing so close to Sam their noses almost touched. "This conversation is not over."

"Misty--"

"Not. Over." She moved to the hole. "I'm going first. I can't promise I won't punch him if we're left alone."

I looked down at her feet. Unlike most of her friends, who always tottered around on heels tall enough to make them look like they'd topple at any second, Misty traded off between the heels and flats. I let out my breath when I saw that she chose to wear flats today. Stylish and expensive flats, but she could climb down the ladder without killing herself.

She knelt, easing herself backward until her feet touched the rungs of the ladder, and disappeared into the darkness.

Sam let out his breath. "That could have gone better."

"You weren't ever going to tell her, were you?"

"I was never going to tell you."

That answered my question.

I sat, stuck my flashlight in the pocket of my hoodie and scooted to the edge of the hole.

"Alex." Sam's voice halted me. I looked up at him, my heart pounding at the intensity in his eyes. "I understand why you told your dad, but--ˮ

"He doesn't know about Jake. Or you."

Relief crossed his face, and he nodded. "Thank you."

"Sam." I didn't want that relief to go away, but I had to be honest with him. "If he has to know, to keep him and my mom safe. I'm going to tell him. I don't care what I signed."

He closed his eyes for a second, and when he looked at me again, his expression was bleak, but resigned. "I understand, Alex."

It hurt to see him like that. It hurt more to know that I was the reason.

I took a shaky breath, then braced my feet on the ladder as I turned around, gripping the curved sides.

Light flared below me, showing me the bottom of the ladder. Dad caught me around the waist when I was close and guided me to the ground. "Got your footing?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

Sam appeared in the beam of Misty's flashlight and stepped to the ground, flipping on his own light.

"This way," Dad said. "I had a little time to do some exploring while you were--sorting things out." Misty stared at the ground, and Sam pushed hair off his face. Dad wouldn't say anything else about it. He wouldn't need to. It was his best leave-me-squirming technique, and it worked every time. "Turn your flashlights off. All of you."

We obeyed, and I sucked in my breath.

Gold, flickering light danced in lines down the twisting street. Old fashioned lamps stuck out from brackets next to the door of every building, hung on tall posts at the edge of a high boardwalk.

And two more posts stood on either side of a time-blackened sign, illuminating the carved words perfectly.

Welcome to Hyattown.

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# Eleven

I expected rubble and broken, rotting wood--best case scenario, a path clawed into the packed dirt, leading to Jake's secret lair.

What I didn't expect was a fully intact ghost town. Underground.

We moved past the sign and I felt a rush of heat over my entire body, like I walked through some kind of barrier. And it wasn't just me--Misty let out a gasp, and caught my wrist.

"Did you feel that?"

"Yeah." I looked over at Dad. He nodded, worry clouding his eyes. Worry that wasn't there before.

I shoved the fear to the back of my mind as we walked past buildings that looked like they belonged in a museum. The flickering light from the gas lamps danced off broken glass windows, fading store signs, and the boardwalk on each side of the street.

Closer inspection showed the consequences of being in a damp environment. The buildings may have been standing, but they were not safe. Rot crept up from the foundation, warping and softening the old wood. Only the brick buildings looked intact, mold spreading over what was once bright red and soft beige facades.

I moved to Dad, slipped my hand in his, felt him squeeze my fingers. "How can this be here?"

He pointed straight ahead. "That's how."

Taking me with him, he headed for the end building. Now that we were on top of it, I saw the heavy wood beam. It looked like a railroad tie, with the black coating slapped on it. Probably to prevent what was happening to the wood structures.

The ceiling was low--less than eight feet, was my guess--and these thick pillars, set up in pairs, sprouted up in regular formation, like a grove of dead trees. Each one dovetailed into one of the heavy cross beams that turned the ceiling over our heads into a checkerboard.

This was well-planned, not a slapdash attempt. There was another freaking town over our heads. The thought that this had been under my feet all my life sent chills down my spine.

Dad's quiet voice echoed around us. "I found the main shutoff for the gaslights in the first building. It looks like it was the public works. I honestly didn't expect them to work, but they fired right up."

"Like someone has been maintaining them," I whispered. Dad nodded, tightening his grip on my hand.

"Who did this?" Misty's awed voice filtered through my growing dread.

Sam had moved away, and was running his fingers over the closest porch post. "This might give us an answer."

We hustled over to him. A symbol was carved into the wood. A symbol I knew I'd seen before--

"It's a rune," Dad said. He reached past me, touched the carving. It looked like an upside-down peace sign--or my elementary school attempt at drawing a tree. "This one is Algiz. It represents protection, or what could be seen as a safe refuge, a safe haven. I had a quick and dirty introduction to runes at university." He raised his eyebrows at my astonished look. "What? I can't have a past?" He smiled at Sam and Misty, who looked even more surprised than me. "I did my undergrad studies at Cambridge. You can't beat England for the glorious variety of architectural styles. I met a girl--"

"Dad!" I clapped my hands over my ears. "I so don't want to hear this."

He gently pried my hands away. "Who cast runes. She was a bohemian, and bashful, lumbering me thought she was the next best thing to a perfectly rendered Gothic arch." His finger traced the rune. "We parted ways pretty quickly--I do like my women with a brain." He winked at me. "But I became fascinated by the runes, and did some studying of my own. Not only are they a form of prediction, they are also a language."

Sam's quiet voice broke the stunned silence. "You think this is some kind of haven. A meeting place."

"The rune could mean that, yes."

Misty spoke, her usually bubbly voice subdued. "If the rune does mean this place is a safe haven, the next question is," she looked at me, fear in her sky-blue eyes. "A safe haven for what?"

~ ~ ~

Dad kept his arm around Misty as we searched the streets, checking for any sign of someone occupying the underground town. The layers of dirt on the boardwalks were untouched, and they squeaked with every step we took. I got off as soon as I could, already freaked out by the existence of the town.

Everywhere we went, we found the same tree rune--carved into doors, under windows, on porch posts. Every building told whoever came here that this was a safe place, a place of protection. It felt empty, like no one had walked here in a long time.

When we circled back to the town welcome sign, I noticed a larger version of the rune there, under the town name. Only this one had an angry black mark scorched across it, a warning that this haven was no longer safe.

The sewers spiked that sense of danger.

The closest entrance was down an alley halfway along the street. I sucked up my courage, and followed Dad down the ladder--before I froze on the third rung. Every hair stood at attention, and my primal survival instinct screamed for flight. So I listened.

Misty was right behind me as I scrambled back up the ladder, and we held hands as we ran for the exit leading to open ground. I swear I didn't breathe until I saw the night sky.

We didn't stay in McGinty's yard--too much bad mojo. Instead we kept going, running until we got back to the records office.

Once we reached the parking lot my lungs were burning. Being a dancer, that pretty much never happened outside of class, so I knew I had been pretty well freaked out by everything. I bent over, hands braced on my thighs, taking in deep, gulping breaths. Misty dropped to the ground next to me, sucking air.

I never wanted to do that again.

Misty crawled over to me. "You okay?"

I held up one hand, took in a semi-normal breath. "I could be better." Easing myself to the ground, I scratched absently at my still healing cut. She slapped my hand away. "Hey--"

"You'll infect it."

"Yes, Mom." I smiled over at her. She was pale, but the fear had faded from her eyes. I imagined I didn't look much better. "Do you think they found anything?"

"I hope not." She rubbed her arms. "I can't believe that giant, hairy nightmare was Jake. What happened to him?"

I swallowed, focused on the cuff of my hoodie. "You'll have to ask Sam."

"But you know--"

"I can't, Misty. I made a promise." One I already broke, when I told Dad. I wondered what the penalty was for breach of confidentiality. And remembered the wicked weapons both Emmetts carried when they went after Jake. That image scared me almost as much as the thought of facing Jake again.

But I would tell Dad again, no matter what the penalty.

Dad and Sam showed up soon after, wet, filthy, and smelling like, well, the sewer. Dad shook his head at me, and they both joined us on the ground.

Dad laid one hand on Sam's arm. "I'm sorry we didn't find Jake."

I blinked, my gaze skating to Sam. He nodded. "I told him. He had to know what he was walking into."

"And I appreciate your trust, Sam," Dad said. "It's possible that Jake may have left town altogether, with the number of people looking for him."

"Thank you for trying, sir." Sam sounded exhausted, and looked worse. Dad obviously noticed when I did. He stood, hauled Sam to his feet, and headed for his truck. "What--"

"I'm taking you home, son." Dad used his "it's useless to argue with me" tone. Sam didn't; he just lowered his head, dirty, cobwebbed hair covering his face. "Did you need a ride, Misty?"

"I have my car here, Mr. Finch." She stood, and to my shock ran over and hugged Dad. "Thanks for taking care of us down there."

"My pleasure, beautiful."

She blushed--Misty Corwin, the goddess of chess geeks, favorite of teachers everywhere, actually blushed. I wished I had my phone out.

I dragged myself up, moved next to her to watch Dad and Sam walk over to his truck. Dad had his arm around Sam's shoulders, talking to him. Knowing my dad, he was telling Sam not to blame himself, for anything. Including my involvement in this mess. I agreed; it wasn't Sam's fault that Jake had decided on an afternoon snack. He just picked the wrong girl to try and sink his teeth into.

"You okay to drive home, Alex?"

I could have stretched out on the parking lot and slept just fine, but I nodded. "It's not far." I met Misty's eyes. "I don't have to tell you--"

"Not to tell anyone? No." She squeezed my arm, and slid into her Porsche. Yeah, different car. Her dad owned the biggest luxury car franchise on the West coast. "Besides, who would believe me?"

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 sped up, 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."

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# Twelve

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 had 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.

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# Thirteen

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."

"Friends?" I think my voice may have squeaked.

"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 hang up--"

"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 hanging up now. 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, taking 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.

I stood there, dazed, one hand on my cheek. I could still feel the warmth, the pressure of his lips against my skin. "Snap out of it. Alex," I whispered. "He's just grateful."

My heart so wanted it to be more, but my mind knew better.

Limping after him, I made my way down the slope to the edge of the river, and spotted him at the first bend. The main path angled up along this part of the river, blocking the average stroller's view of the base of the hill.

I watched Sam drop into the open manhole, and picked up my pace, afraid of what he might find. I didn't want him to face it alone.

My ankle finally rebelled, and I clutched the nearest tree, cursing the pain. I took in a deep breath, shoved off, and forced myself to move through it. I'd done it enough times in dance class and onstage. I could do it here, when it was so much more important.

I reached the open hole, and glanced in. Sam leaned over a sprawled figure, both of his hands bloody. Katie stood next to him, one hand on his shoulder. To my relief, there was a metal ladder attached to the wall. I climbed down as quickly as my ankle would let me.

Sam looked up, grey-blue eyes focused, and angry. "Jake's alive."

"Oh, thank God." I wasn't sure Sam felt the same way, not after what happened to his mom. I lowered myself to the damp ground, and saw the decorative cover. Or at least what was left of it. The solid, heavy bronze had been twisted almost in half.

I remembered the huge claws of whatever stalked me, and shuddered.

"You came." I looked at the girl next to Sam. She studied me, wide brown eyes filled with the horror she must have seen.

"Hi, Katie." With a sob, she launched herself at me. "Hey--it's okay." I rubbed her back. "You were so brave. Now I need you to be brave a little longer so I can help Jake."

"Okay." She let me go, and I knelt beside Sam.

"How is he?"

"Bad." I looked at all the blood and pulled off my hoodie, handing it to him. "Thanks. Blood doesn't bother you, does it?"

"What do you need?"

He looked at me, gratitude on his face. "Check the bandage on his leg. That was the worst injury, but I tied it so fast, I'm not sure it's tight enough."

I crawled around to Jake's right leg. Sam had used his sweatshirt as a makeshift bandage, and the thick fabric was already soaked through.

"Sam, we have to get him out of here. He needs a doctor."

"No--doctor." Jake's raw whisper froze my breath. The same dark eyes I remembered looked up at me, clouded with pain. "Hey, Alex."

"Hey."

"Don't panic." A smile tugged at his mouth. "Not going to--eat you."

He moaned, clawing at Sam's hand.

"Stop fighting me, Jake. You need medical help." He grabbed Jake's hand and held on. "I can't take you home. Dad'll kill you on sight."

Jake closed his eyes, swallowed. "I know."

"We need to get you out of here." Sam slid his right arm under Jake's back. "And you're going to have to help, as much as you can."

Jake nodded--and let out a harsh cry when Sam pulled him up.

"Some warning next time?" he whispered. His face was dead white.

"Okay--we're standing up now."

"Why don't you--just leave me?"

Katie gasped behind me.

Sam draped Jake's arm over his shoulders. "Because I owe you."

They studied each other, until Jake finally nodded.

"Alex." Sam gripped Jake's wrist. "Help me stand him up." Crouching next to Jake, I wrapped one arm around his waist. "We go on three. One, two, three."

We all groaned at the effort, but we got Jake to his feet. Now all we had to do was get him up the ladder.

Jake leaned into Sam, his gravel rough voice hardly more than a whisper. "Access tunnel. For maintenance." He jerked his head at the tunnel on his right. It did look bigger than the others. It also meant we would be underground. With the devil.

Nodding, Sam tightened his grip, glanced over at me. "Just keep moving. And if I say run, you run. No questions, no arguing. And take Katie with you."

I swallowed. "Okay."

Katie huddled next to me, one hand on Jake's limp right arm. "We'll be all right, Jake. You scared the devil away."

He managed a smile. "Just for you, kid."

"Let's go," Sam said.

We pulled Jake into the tunnel, and Sam, bless him, produced a key ring flashlight. Before he could turn it on, I heard a tapping ahead of us. I reached over and grabbed Sam's hand. "Wait," I whispered.

He looked at me, clearly annoyed. "What..." His voice died, and I knew he heard it now. A soft tap tap, like a cat's claws on cement. Only much bigger.

Sam pulled us over until we hit the curving tunnel wall. Katie huddled against me, and I wrapped my free arm around her, tucking her into my side. I hardly dared to breathe. I was afraid my pounding heart could be heard down the tunnel. It slammed into my ribs so hard it hurt.

I'd heard that same tapping behind me last night. From whatever stalked me.

I got a glimpse of it then, but having Jake right next to me as I heard that same tapping again proved beyond doubt that it wasn't him.

Jake's whisper had me practically jumping out of my skin. "We have to move. It has my scent."

"Mine, too," I whispered back. Sam's head whipped around. I nodded, answering the question in his narrowed eyes. Katie whimpered. I leaned down, took her hand. "Hold on tight," I whispered. "We might have to run."

She nodded, her brown eyes almost black in her too pale face. I looked back at Sam, and he gestured to the tunnel, made a sign for moving. I nodded to let him know I understood, and tightened my grip on both Jake and Katie.

We slid along the wall, every tiny noise making my heart pound harder, faster. The tapping seemed to pace us, not getting closer, but unfortunately, not fading either. I didn't know how much more my heart could take--it was still recovering from last night. At least I wasn't alone this time.

Light appeared ahead of us, and now I understood the true meaning of the light at the end of the tunnel.

Sam leaned Jake against the wall, moved to me and whispered against my ear. "I'm going to get the car, bring it in as far as I can. If you have to run, leave Jake."

I jerked back, stared at him. He was serious. When I opened my mouth to protest, Jake shook his head. I shook mine right back at him. With a faint smile, he leaned in. "Keep Katie safe for me."

That was a request I couldn't refuse. I chose to be part of this insanity; Katie was here by accident. Swallowing, I nodded. Jake relaxed, and closed his eyes.

I watched Sam as he pressed against the tunnel wall, headed for the entrance. Katie started shivering; I let go of her hand and wrapped my arm around her, pulling her in. She hugged me, hard, and I ignored the flare of still new bruises.

Each second felt like an eternity. My nerves jumped at every sound, including my own breath. I still didn't know if I could leave Jake, if it came to that. But choosing between him and Katie--that took no brain power to decide. I just kept praying I wouldn't have to make the choice.

I heard the growl of Sam's SUV before I saw it. And flattened Katie against the wall when it came roaring into the tunnel, headlights on high beams. The inhuman scream just behind us froze my blood.

I whirled, stepped in front of Katie--and got a full view of my stalker.

It looked like a punked out seven foot black teddy bear. A deadly, clawed, green-eyed teddy bear.

Katie's scream got me moving.

I shoved her toward the SUV. "Run!" Ignoring Jake's protests, I hauled him with me to Sam, who met us, taking Jake from me.

"Drive," he said, his low voice absolutely calm.

I sprinted to the driver's side, my ankle complaining with every step, and swung into the seat. Taking only long enough to shove the seat forward, I slammed the car into reverse and turned in a half circle, braking when the driver's side faced Sam.

I twisted around and grabbed the latch for the back door, popping it open just as Sam and Jake reached the SUV. Katie scrambled in first, and I pulled her up front, shoving the gear back into drive. Sam practically threw Jake in the back and climbed in after him. "GO!"

I jammed my foot on the gas, my heart jumping when I heard claws scraping across the back of the car. I kept pushing until my foot hit the floor.

We shot out of the tunnel, and I had enough time to see that we were on an access road that followed the river. Gravel spewed up behind us, and I risked a glance in the rearview mirror. My breath clogged in my throat at the mirror image of the teddy bear monster crouched in the shadow of the tunnel entrance, green eyes furious.

I responded by going faster, not slowing until the tunnel was finally out of sight. We hit the end of the access road and I jerked to a stop, inches from a storage shed. I let out the breath I didn't know I'd been holding, and lowered my head to the steering wheel, still gripping it so hard my hands shook.

"Alex." Sam's voice penetrated the panic still swirling through me. He closed one hand over my shoulder. "You can let go now. We're safe, for the moment."

I raised my head, saw that all three of them were staring at me, everything from surprise to admiration on their faces. Jake smiled. "Some impressive driving there, Finch." With a groan, he laid his head back against the seat.

Sam leaned over him. "We need to get you some help."

"No doctor, Sam." Jake met his eyes. "I can't risk--"

"What about Misty's sister, Candace?" I interrupted before Jake could finish his sentence. Katie had been traumatized enough. "She's doing a surgical rotation for school." Sam stared at me like I was speaking another language. "What? She told me."

After an endless second, he nodded. "Call her."

He checked Jake's bandages, tightening the one that had come loose during our escape. Katie watched him, her small hands twisting around each other. I understood why she was protective of Jake. He saved her life. Hero worship ran fast and deep in young kids. I had been on the receiving end more than once with my young dance students.

"Katie." She looked at me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Buckle up, sweetheart. We're going to get Jake to someone who can help him."

Nodding, she fastened her seat belt, turning to keep one hand on Jake's arm. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and tapped in Misty's number. I really didn't want her involved, but we had no choice.

"Alex! Where are you?"

"Misty--we found Jake." I heard her gasp. "He needs medical--"

"I'll call Candace," she said. "Where do we meet you?"

I looked up, met Sam's eyes in the rearview mirror. "My house," I said. "We'll meet you at my house." I turned to the window, lowered my voice to keep Katie from hearing. "Have Candace bring everything. He's bleeding, a lot."

"Okay. We'll be there as soon as we can."

I ended the call, and buckled my own seat belt, maneuvering around the storage shed. A narrow dirt road led up to the main path. I turned on to it, driving at a much slower pace, and took the path out to the parking lot.

Traffic was light, so I could snake around the slower cars without much effort. Which was a good thing; I'd most likely used up all my daredevil driving mojo in the access tunnel.

I glanced in the rearview mirror. Jake had his eyes closed, and his slack face told me he was unconscious, or close to it. Letting out my breath, I turned into my neighborhood. I didn't want Jake anywhere near my family. But I was the idiot who wanted to be part of this.

I just hoped my parents didn't pay the price for it.

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# Fourteen

Misty and Candace were standing in front of the garage when we pulled up. They helped us carry Jake into my house, using the blanket Sam kept in the back of the SUV as a makeshift stretcher. Blood started dripping by the time we got him into the old solarium Mom had converted to an office. I picked it because it had a leather sofa, and she hardly ever used it.

Candace took over as soon as we maneuvered him into the room. "Set him on the couch, and then get out of my way unless I tell you otherwise."

Relief left me shaky. I helped lower Jake to the sofa and stepped back, watching her examine him with quick, efficient movements.

Misty tiptoed over to me. "Sorry about her," she whispered. "She does get nasty when I wake her up after a thirty-six-hour shift at the hospital."

I stared up at her. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I would have come, no matter what," Candace said. "Now shut up, so I can focus here. And some coffee would be delightful."

I took the hint, limping out and to the kitchen. I didn't think, just set up the coffee maker, like I'd done hundreds of times for Dad during marathon drafting sessions. Once I sat down everything crashed in on me.

Tears stung my eyes. With a sigh, I let go of the control and lowered my head.

"Alex?" Katie's quiet voice had me wiping my eyes.

"Hey, sweetheart." I held out my hand. "We need to call your parents."

She shook her head. "Not until I know Jake's okay. They won't even know I'm gone." Anger flashed in her eyes, too much anger for someone so young.

"Katie--what is your last name?"

"I want to stay, Alex. Can't I just stay here, a little longer?"

"As soon as you answer my question."

She let out a sigh. "Hyatt."

I jerked, and gripped the edge of the table. This was not a coincidence. It couldn't be. And she was awfully composed for a what--eight year old?--who had just seen a monster crawl out of the sewer.

"Katie." I tried to keep my voice even. "What were you doing out alone?"

She stared at the floor. "Exploring." Her hands twisted around each other. "My parents are gone on business most of the time, and my nanny won't do anything with me. So I snuck out."

I pressed her. "Why the public garden?"

"Because!" Her fist shot out. I caught it on instinct, but she managed to glance off my left cheek before I did. "It's none of your business! I can go wherever I want--"

"Stop." She stilled, looking surprised. My guess was she didn't have someone in her life telling her not to act out. Or hit people. "I need to know, Katie. Let me finish." She closed her mouth. "A lot of people can be in danger, if what hurt Jake isn't stopped. Now," I let go of her fist, closed both hands over her shoulders. "Answer the question. Why did you go there?"

"I found a map, in my daddy's office, in this." She pulled a small book out of her pocket and handed it to me. A tightly folded piece of paper slipped out when I opened it, landing on the table. "It looked funny, like it was under the ground, but I recognized the garden. I wanted to see where it went. When I got there, I saw some other kids. I thought maybe we could play together." Now she sounded like a little girl. A lonely little girl. "I caught up with them, and I showed them the map. We just started down the path when their parents called them, so I went on alone--"

She hid her face in her hands, shoulders shaking. I shoved the small book in my front pocket and pulled her into my arms, rubbing her back. I wanted her to feel safe when I asked the next question. "The devil came after you, didn't he?"

With a sob, she nodded against my shoulder. I looked up, and saw Sam standing in the kitchen doorway. By the frown I figured he'd heard most of her story.

Katie lifted her head. "Jake came out of nowhere and jumped it before it could grab me. But it took him down the sewer..." She shook her head. "I got knocked down after them. Jake got hurt because of me."

"Don't blame yourself, sweetheart. It was the monster that hurt Jake, not you."

I glanced over at Sam. He moved forward, touched Katie's shoulder. "He'll be okay, Katie. He's tougher than he looks." She let out a watery laugh. He moved his attention to me. "Can I see the map?"

I handed the map to him, watched as he spread it out on the kitchen table. I knew what it was immediately, having an architect in the house. Sam caught on a second after. "The sewer system," he said. "I might have a shot with this..." He looked up, met my eyes, and shook his head. "No way, Alex."

"Can you read it?"

"Yes." He leaned over the map again, stabbed his finger on a spot near the edge. "This is where we were at the garden."

I smiled at him. "Wrong answer."

"You are out. I don't want you hurt again."

His concern had me flushing. I tried to cover by crossing my arms, and staring him down. "I keep trying, but I get sucked back in."

"I didn't--"

"It's not your fault, Sam. That thing came after me, all on its own. I was terrified, but you know what--now I'm pissed. I don't want it getting near anyone again. So you're not pushing me out, not until I know it's gone, and my family is safe. Until we're all safe."

He got in my face. "I'm not letting you near it. Look what it did to Jake--"

"Because he fought it head on! I'm not going to--"

"You're not going to anything. Period."

The temper I hardly let out pushed at me, begging to take him on. I gave in to it. Shocking both of us,

I pushed Sam against the wall and stood on tiptoe to get as close to his face as possible. "Listen up, Mr. High and Mighty Emmett. Your family might own this town, but you are not the boss of me. I can do whatever the hell I want and you have no--"

"Stop fighting." Katie 's voice cut me off. I looked over at her, and her white face had me moving to her. Panic flashed in her brown eyes. More panic than when we faced a monster in the darkness.

I touched her shoulder. "It's okay, we're just discussing--"

"No--you're fighting. I know fighting when I hear it." Tears filled her eyes, crept into her voice. "Now you have to stop, before it ruins what's between you."

"What's between..." I was so startled I lost my train of thought.

She thinks we're a couple. Oh my God.

Before I could stop myself, I looked at Sam. He refused to meet my eyes. "Katie," he said. "We're not--we're just--" He let out his breath. Was he--oh, sweet heaven above. Sam Emmett was blushing.

I got so distracted I didn't hear the warning sounds until it was too late.

"Margaret!"

I froze at the sound of Mom's voice. Sam had the nerve to raise his eyebrows. "Margaret?"

Not now. Oh, please, let a sinkhole open in the kitchen floor.

When that didn't happen I limped forward, hoping to head her off before she--

Too late. Mom sailed in through the doorway, her frown already in place. "Whose car is blocking my...oh." She smiled when she spotted Sam.

And I had a horrifying, clear picture of exactly what ran through her mind. All of it wrong.

Setting her paisley printed work bag on the table, she converged on him. "Hello, Sam. We meet again. I see my daughter's in one piece, so this must be more--social." He nodded, glancing at me. I didn't have time to shake my head before Mom turned to me. "Sweetheart, why didn't you tell me you and Sam were," she gave me that smile--the "I know what's really going on" smile. "Friends?"

Acute embarrassment shot heat over every inch of my body. I must have looked like a bruised beet. "Mom--"

"We're working on a project together," Sam said. He flashed me his heart stomping smile--the one that I never thought I would see directed at me. Me--the geek. If my body hadn't been throbbing already from the various bruises and scrapes, I would have pinched myself to check for awake status. "I'm sorry we invaded you like this, without warning."

He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, and charmed her as he led her away from the office. Away from Jake. It would have worked, if Mom hadn't spotted Katie.

"Is that--Katie Hyatt?" Mom pulled out of Sam's grip and circled the table, trapping Katie in the corner, next to the refrigerator, where she'd tucked herself when Mom came in. "What are you doing here, honey? I didn't know you were acquainted with my daughter, who is just full of surprises today."

Uh oh. I recognized that tone. I was terrified of that tone. It was Mom's prelude to using my full name. I had to cut her off--Sam hearing her call me Margaret was damaging enough.

"Mrs. Finch." Katie gave her a brilliant smile. "Alex teaches my dance class. We just met each other, in the public garden. I was thirsty, so Alex invited me for a drink. I told her," she glanced at me, the hand behind her back pointing at Mom. "You were redoing my dad's library. Small world, isn't it?"

"Indeed." Mom raised her eyebrows at me. I smiled, trying to look like it was a normal day, and I didn't have a bloody, half-monster in the office just behind her. "Would you all like to stay for dinner?"

Startled, my gaze jumped to the clock. How did I lose track of time like that? I'd missed all of my afternoon classes, and--if I hadn't lost track of the days as well--my weekly private dance lesson with Madame Chloe, who would happily rip into me when I dared to show my face to her again.

Not that I could do much of anything on my throbbing ankle. My life was unraveling, and I couldn't seem to stop it.

"Alex already invited me." I stared at Sam, positive I'd heard things. When he smiled at me, nodding his head, I figured I had a concussion from last night. "Why don't I help you with that, Mrs. Finch." He picked up the work bag just as she reached for it, and headed out of the kitchen. "I haven't seen much of your home. Would you mind giving me a tour? I've always loved this neighborhood."

He said the two things Mom could never resist--home tour and bragging about our historic neighborhood. This house was her baby, and her three-dimensional calling card.

I took the hint, and the second they were out of sight I limped to the office. "We have to get him out of here. My mom's home."

Candace didn't even bother looking up. "Not until I'm done."

Misty stood in the farthest corner, trying not to look sick. I understood--Jake was a bloody mess. And that mess spread over the sheet draped on the sofa. A sheet Candace must have brought with her. I hoped. Mom would kill me slowly if it was from her 400 thread count sets.

Candace pressed together the top edge of the nasty gash on Jake's leg and added a final stitch, closing the wound.

He let out a low groan. "What are you doing?"

"Saving your life, you big lug." She leaned over Jake's leg, using her teeth to snap the thread just above his stitches. I flinched watching him flinch. "Are you going to help, Finch, or simply admire the view?"

"Um--help?"

"Then move that little butt over here and keep his arm still. The faster I get this thug stitched up, the sooner we leave."

I moved. Kneeling next to him, I grabbed his wrist, startled by how much blood stained his clothes.

"So many pet names," Jake said, his voice raw, but amused. "I think she likes me."

Candace snorted, but I saw a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. "Wiseass."

"Years of practice, sweetheart. God--" He sucked in his breath when she slid a needle into his arm. "Some--warning next time."

This time Candace smiled. She didn't have the best bedside manner, but she was fast, and efficient. And she'd keep whatever she found to herself.

Honestly--who would believe her?

"Okay--he's good to go. Give me your hand, you big hunk. Let's see if you can sit." Jake grinned at her and held out his hand, the grin twisting as she hauled him up. "Help me get him on his feet, Misty. Misty." She jumped at Candace's sharp tone. "I need you, here, now. You promised."

Swallowing, Misty crossed the room. I moved out of the way so she could help Candace pull Jake to his feet.

"Alex?" We all froze when my dad stepped into the room. Swallowing past the giant panic lump in my throat, I turned to face him, and braced myself for his disappointment. That always hurt me more than any lecture. I froze again, this time in shock, when he closed the door, locked it, and strode over to Jake. "Are you all right, son?"

Jake nodded, staring at Dad like he had two heads. "Sorry about the blood, sir."

"It will wash. Alex," he turned to me, laid his hands on my shoulders. The concern on his face had tears stinging my eyes. "Was it the same--creature?" I nodded, afraid that if I tried to talk I'd just lose it, in front of everyone. Dad pulled me into a quick, hard hug. When he let me go, he rubbed his face, looking tired. "All right. Let's get your friends out of here before your mother sees them."

I didn't understand why Dad cared so much about Jake when he was the one who--

Mental head slap--Dad didn't know. I never told him Jake's name, just everything else. As far as he was concerned, Jake was Sam's cousin, hiding out because of--whatever reason Sam had told him.

I was glad now I left out that little detail. Dad took Jake from Candace, turning him toward the back door we hardly ever used. I limped forward and moved the tall bamboo screen Mom always stuck in front of it, so she could pretend it didn't ruin the aesthetics of her design.

That door led out to the far corner of the yard, conveniently close to the side of the house. Dad tightened his grip when Jake stumbled again, half-carried him around the side. "Check the front for me."

I did, giving the all clear thumbs up. Misty ran ahead of us, opening the back door of Candace's car and spreading the bloodstained sheet over the seat. "Let me help you, Mr. Finch."

"Go around to the other side," he said. "Help me guide him in." She bounded around the car and opened the door, kneeling on the seat. "You really need to see a doctor, son."

Jake met his eyes, obviously startled by Dad's concern. "Thank you, sir. I'll be okay--fast healer."

At the moment, he looked like walking death, but with his--extra genes, I figured he stood a better chance of healing than the average human.

I would not think about the possibility of Sam having those same genes.

No--not thinking about it.

Dad helped him into the car, and I heard a noise that stopped my heart. The front door opening.

"Raleigh? Do we have more company?" Yeah--my dad's name is Raleigh. Didn't I mention that before now?

He goes by Lee, and my mom is the only one who uses his full name. It's British, a family name. Like mine. And he hates it. Like me.

"Friends of Alex's, dear," he said. "Just leaving." He slammed the back door. Candace had already taken stock and was in the driver's seat. She gunned the engine, gave me a look that told me we weren't done, and backed out of the driveway. Dad did a quick inspection of himself, then me, and took my arm. "Let's go rescue Sam."

~ ~ ~

Dad drove Katie home, after convincing Mom she couldn't stay for dinner.

And dinner? That was--odd.

First, having Sam Emmett eating dinner at my house.

Second, having Mom interrogate Sam like he was my boyfriend.

And finally, to top off the odd with embarrassing, Dad studied him the entire meal, like he was some kind of exotic specimen.

I didn't get a break until dessert, in the form of a call on Sam's cell. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. I never saw anyone's face drain of color so fast.

"Excuse me," he said, standing. "I have to take this."

After exchanging glances with Dad, while Mom was busy cutting the carrot cake we wouldn't be having, I followed Sam out to the living room.

"--care of her, Dad. I'm on my way." Sam ended the call, and stared at the phone. I figured he didn't see me come in, so I cleared my throat. His head snapped up. "Alex." He tried cover the pain I saw on his face, and failed miserably. "I have to go."

"I heard. That's all I heard, Sam."

He nodded, relief easing some of that pain. "Thank your mom for me. Having dinner here was a nice--break."

"I will." The next words popped out before I could stop them. "Is everything okay, Sam?"

"Jake was at the house. He had Candace take him there. I have to get back before--ˮ He cut himself off, and I moved closer, taking his hand.

It felt so natural, after all we'd been through together.

"Is there anything I can do?"

He shook his head, and squeezed my hand before he eased out of my grip. "Dad wants me home, so I have to go."

I walked him to the front door. We went outside, and I shut the door, to keep Mom from ambushing him with dessert. "Can you--" I really hated to ask, but I wanted to know how things turned out. "Will you let me know how Jake is doing?"

The anger that flared in his eyes shocked me. I took a step back, recoiling when he reached out to me. Pain snuffed the anger.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice ragged. "But I don't care. I don't owe him anymore, and I'll make sure he pays for hurting my mom, for--"

He cut himself off, but I already knew what he didn't say. Jake had bit her, and it may be only a matter of time before she--changed.

"Sam." His head snapped up. I swallowed, met his eyes. I wasn't sure if he knew that I knew. "It's been ten years since you were attacked, and you're still--you." His eyes widened, what little color he had left in his face gone. "Your mom could very well be the same."

"How--" He choked on the word, then closed his eyes. "Jake. When?"

"Outside your house, the day after the attack."

"Damn him--" He headed for his SUV.

"I don't care, Sam." I said the words in a rush, and stopped him in his tracks. "I'm glad Jake told me."

He shook his head, and let out a curse as he ran to his SUV. Before I could even think to go after him, he gunned the engine and shot backward out of my driveway. I watched him roar away, wishing I'd kept my mouth shut.

He took the corner too fast, and I let out my breath when he made it without rolling. Not sure how we stood after that unfortunate conversation, I headed back to the house. My phone buzzed, telling me I had a text. I took it out of my pocket, saw that it was from Sam.

My knees buckled as I read it. Fortunately, the porch was right behind me.

Alex--not supposed to tell you, but going to. Dad tried to kill Jake. I wish he had. Mom stopped him, but got hurt again. May not be in school for a while. I'm sorry. Don't call me.

I leaned against the porch rail, closed my eyes. How much worse could this mess get?

My phone rang, and I answered it without looking at the number.

"Alex." Candace's no-nonsense voice had me sitting up. "Jake is here, and almost as banged up as he was this afternoon. He won't say a thing, so it's your turn."

I swallowed, blurted out the words before I could stop myself. "Sam's dad tried to kill him."

Candace let out a string of curse words that had me raising my eyebrows in appreciation. I heard her talk to Jake. "Sam's dad did this to you?" Mumbling from Jake I couldn't understand had her cursing again. "So you'll stay here, you big lug." With a sigh, she spoke to me again. "I'll patch him up, again. But I'm asking for payment this time."

I closed my eyes, pretty sure I already knew. "What payment?"

"Answers. And sooner rather than later."

She hung up without saying goodbye.

Just like I expected, she asked for the one thing I couldn't give her.

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# Fifteen

After an interrogation from Mom about Sam's intentions, I managed to escape. Until Dad caught up with me outside my room.

"I like Sam, sweetheart, but my decision still stands--"

"Dad--"

"With a condition." I didn't want to hope, but I couldn't help myself. "You can see Sam--at school." I was both relieved, and seriously disappointed. Dad cradled my face, something he only did when he knew he'd upset me. "I need time--to sort this out. It's not easy for me, either, Alex, but I have to do what's necessary to keep you safe."

He pulled out the protection card. I couldn't argue with that.

"I do understand. I'm really tired, Dad."

"Got it. Conversation over." He kissed the top of my head. "Good night, sweetheart."

I finally made it to the privacy of my room. After closing the door, I leaned against it with a sigh.

Whatever Dad finally decided, it didn't matter now. I was pretty sure Sam would never talk to me again.

On that happy note, I bent over from the waist, stretching my hamstrings--and something sharp poked into my right hip. I straightened, reached into my front pocket. And pulled out the small book Katie had given me, just before Sam interrupted us.

I decided to take a closer look--it would keep my mind off Sam, and the fact I couldn't see him anymore outside of school. I tossed the book at the pile of pillows against my headboard, then sat on my bed to wrestle off my motorcycle boots. Once I got myself out of them I crawled across the bed, my ankle thanking me for the freedom, and picked up the book. With a tired sigh, I sank into the soft, squishy pillows.

Taking my time, I examined the book, front and back. The leather cover had water stains, assorted scratches, and no title of any kind. I studied the binding. No title there either.

I opened it, found a copyright date on the back of what should have been the title page, and a vanity publishing company logo. The book was only twenty years old. My breath stalled in my throat when I turned the page.

A Guide to the Hyattown Safe Haven

by Andrew Emmett

Andrew, as in Drew, as in Sam's father. Swallowing, I turned to the next page, read the single paragraph.

This is a guide to all that find refuge here. The laws of our safe haven are simple: no violence, and no discrimination. Follow the rules, and you are welcome. Break the rules, and we will ban you. Inside this guide you will find a list of your fellow refugees, with descriptions and an illustration to identify them. There is a notes section at the back, for those who can write, and a map of the haven network. Welcome, and safe journey when you leave.

"Oh, my God." My hands shook as I scanned the pages. Just like he promised, there was a seriously well-researched list of--monsters, what were called half-humans, and, God, a section that was titled Others.

The illustrations were simple. And just about the creepiest I'd ever seen. But I found myself studying each one, finding a certain--beauty, I guess I could call it, in some of the creatures. My heart stopped when I found the illustration that looked like Jake.

Fenris Wolf. I remembered Fenrir, from my mythology class. Not a good start, considering the original was violent, and the son of the trickster, Loki. Yes, mythology class. It was freaking fantastic. And I was glad now for the background.

Scanning the description, I kept going until I found the section named Side Effects.

As in "what happened when someone was attacked" side effects.

There is no effect on another creature, aside from the injury. But recent incidents have shown that when a human is attacked by the Fenris, there is a good chance they will change, become the monster, with no control over when and where. Observations are ongoing, as the only human to survive such an attack is part of a haven outside London, England.

"Not anymore," I whispered. I wondered if that human was still alive--and decided I'd rather not know.

I turned the page--and the wide, angry eyes of the monster who stalked me had me throwing the book out of sheer reaction.

Once I calmed myself, I picked the book up off the floor, and turned on every light in my room before I sat down to read it.

The Devil. It was simply called the Devil. Exactly what Katie had called it.

Speculation that this creature is related to the Tasmanian Devil may not be far off. It has a fierce loyalty to its mate, and is ferocious when its home is threatened. It is sensitive to light, which makes it difficult to live in most aboveground havens. We are unfortunate enough to have the right environment for it to not only live, but thrive.

This creature is only welcomed into the haven if a Fenris is in residence, as they seem to keep a truce around each other, if an uneasy one. Their strengths are equal, and their need for a home just as ferocious. In my opinion, the Devil should be in the same category as the Wendigo--permanently banned. But others welcome them once they arrive, and I am in the minority.

Side Effects: No human has ever survived an attack.

It had the least amount of information in the guide, next to the Wendigo, which had a big red X hand drawn over the illustration, and one sentence: Do not accept--it will kill all residents and store those it doesn't eat right away for later.

I had to set the book down for a few minutes to let that sink in. Wendigos were real.

All the research I'd done, the connections I made with the same creatures running through the folklore of every culture--I was right.

Sometimes I really hated being right.

I added my first of what would probably be many notes in the margin, this one next to the Devil. First attack, and the victim has survived it. I will update if this changes. Jake wasn't completely human, but he had definitely survived. So far.

The next entry left my hand shaking, as I added it next to the Fenris Wolf. Two new victims--one changed immediately, one not at all. The third is recently bitten. I will update with any changes.

I had to put the book down--again--for a few minutes after that. Okay--more than a few minutes. Writing it down, seeing it on the page--that finally made it all real. More real than I wanted to deal with.

Once I picked it up again, I spent half the night going through the book. For its small size, it was overflowing with information, and so many creatures my mind couldn't grasp the reality of it. I examined the map, and found we weren't the only safe haven on this part of the coast. And most of them weren't underground. We were just special that way. Lucky us.

The network spread literally around the world, and each place apparently had its own guide, its own rules, and a list of the creatures not allowed. The banned lists for each haven were included, and the Devil topped most of those lists--except Hyattown, and a couple of places in England.

Finally, I got up and tucked the book in the bottom drawer of my dresser, under the ragged leotards I couldn't part with. Mom refused to even look in this drawer, so I knew it would be safe. Sitting so long, hunched over the book, left me stiff, all the bruises and scrapes I'd acquired over the last couple of days aching enough for me to pay attention. My ankle wasn't speaking to me.

I undressed, pulled on an old, oversize t-shirt of Dad's, and crawled back into bed.

I had a long list of questions for Sam, and I was going to defy Dad to get some answers--even though I had a feeling Sam wouldn't be around to answer them.

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# Sixteen

Like I had predicted, Sam didn't come to school.

And he didn't call me. Not that I expected him to, after the way we left things last night. But I still needed to know if he was all right. So I spent the day, already exhausted, worried about Sam, how his mom was doing, if his dad had gone after Jake again.

Too many sleepless nights, too many revelations, too much strange. I had never been so tired in my life.

And it was about to get worse, because study period was next. Which meant an hour with Misty. I didn't know if my brain could take the stimulation without exploding, right there in the library.

I met her at our regular table, too exhausted to think straight, and braced myself for the interrogation.

She surprised me. Looking almost as tired as I felt, she sat next to me. "You look like you got about as much sleep as I did," she said.

"That obvious?"

"Yeah."

That was it. Next thing I knew, she had her head bent over her ereader, actually reading. I could tell, because she didn't look happy, which meant she was reading our project book. Part of me wanted to reward her and change books, so she didn't have to slog through it. If I wasn't so abruptly summoned by Mrs. Swiller, I might have made the sacrifice.

"Miss Finch." She stood over me, a pile of books in her arms. "I need to see you in my office. Immediately."

Swallowing, I stood, and followed her through the library, ignoring the pity glances from the other students. I was too busy trying to figure out what I'd done to earn her attention.

She closed the door behind me, set the pile of books on a cart next to the door, and gestured to a chair. I sat, aware of every bruise pressing against the hard wood seat. "Mrs. Swiller, if I did anything to upset you, I'm--"

"What I am about to show you does not leave this office. Ever. If I hear of it, I will know who to send to the principal. Do we have an understanding?" Mystified, and intrigued, I nodded. Mrs. Swiller moved to what I always thought was just an armoire, and swung both doors open.

If I hadn't been sitting down, I would have been on the floor. She had a computer. In her office. And not just any computer; it was the latest model, one I had been salivating over for the last month.

"What--how..." I stared at her. "I thought you hated technology."

"I despise its use as an excuse to be lazy. As a tool, it is invaluable." I clutched the chair, letting that sink in. "I know you are knowledgeable in this area, Miss Finch. Alex." I blinked at her. She never called anyone by their first name. "I need your assistance. My Bessie--my computer, is receiving some emails, from a source I do not know. I am hesitant to open them, and I am making this request of you, to trace them to their source."

I wanted to smile. She named her computer. Since I did the same thing, that put us on a more equal footing. I stood, gesturing to the wheeled chair next to the armoire. She nodded, and I slid it in front of what was obviously a custom conversion of the armoire. I know my custom, with a designer and an architect for parents.

"How many emails?"

"Three, so far."

"Okay." I was hoping I didn't have to explain the people who wrote programs that crawled through the internet, snagging email addresses. "Is it the school email?"

"Of course. I do not use my computer for personal use on school time."

I bit my lip to keep from smiling. "I'll open your email first, see what you have."

She leaned over the back of the chair as I booted up her computer, and clicked on the email tile. Unfortunately, she'd set it up so the top email would be displayed on the screen. One of her mystery emails happened to be at the top.

We both recoiled from the image pasted big and bold in the body of the email. I took in a shaky breath, moved back for a closer look. It was a still, taken from a video. I noticed the live link right under it. The boy looked like he was about eight. And he was bloody, terrified, and in the grip of the punked out, green-eyed monster we met under the public garden.

"What the hell--"

"No," Mrs. Swiller whispered. "They can't have returned. We burned them out. They can't stay once fire touches--" She cut herself off.

I turned the chair around, slowly, watched her back away from the computer, one hand at her throat. "What do you mean, you burned them out?" The light bulb flashed in my mind, blinding and horrifying. "Are you talking about the basement fire?"

She widened her eyes. "How do you know about--"

"I grew up here. And I know how to do basic math. Something else happened ten years ago, and the fire covered it up." Oh, yeah, my mind had been a busy little bee, fitting the pieces together. I pointed at the computer screen. "Was it them?"

Her arm dropped and her back straightened, like she'd just put on invisible armor. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Miss Finch."

"I barely got away from that green-eyed terror twice now. So don't stand there and tell me you have no idea." I clapped my hand over my mouth, shocked that I spoke to her like that, and even more shocked that I just spilled the beans.

I thought I couldn't be more surprised by Mrs. Swiller. I was wrong.

She moved to me and laid both hands on my shoulders, concern in her eyes. "Did it hurt you?"

I shook my head. "Just scared me, really scared me." I let out a shaky breath, pushing Jake to the back of my mind. I'd already let my loose lips spew out enough. "I'm going to trace the IP."

Easing out of her grip, I turned the chair and scooted it back to the computer. I found the IP, grateful there was one, since part of me expected it to be some sort of ghost email, sent from nowhere. I pulled up the command prompt, typed in tracert, then the IP address, and hit enter.

The server address popped up faster than I expected. I wrote it down on the pad next to her keyboard, brought up the Who Is database and typed it in the search box.

The results brought up an address. "That can't be right." I read it again, to make sure. The address was for one of the computers here. At the school. "How--"

"Out of the way, Alex." Mrs. Swiller converged on me, and I jumped out of the chair. She dropped into it, clicked on her files, opened up an image. "Have you seen this before?"

The Algiz rune popped up on her screen. This one had been carved into a wood porch post, with the word safe written in black above it and haven written below it. I closed my eyes as I recognized the sagging wood building behind that post.

"I've seen it. Live and up close."

"You've been down there?" She swiveled the chair until she faced me. "Please tell me you did not go underground."

"Too late."

"Oh, sweet lord." She stood and grabbed my arms. "We promised we wouldn't return. They promised to stay away. We scorched the rune, to turn away those that didn't know. It was supposed to stay safe as long as we didn't go back underground."

We stared at each other. "I didn't know," I whispered. "We were looking for someone, and found the plans to Hyattown--"

"Where?"

"County records office. My dad is an architect--"

"I am aware, Alex. We should have included him, told him the truth. Now it is too late."

My heart skipped at the doom in her voice. "What do you mean, too late?"

"You opened the gate, Alex." Mrs. Swiller let me go, her gaze moving back to the screen. To the little boy. "You woke the beast."

~ ~ ~

Mrs. Swiller gave me a note that would excuse me for the rest of the day, and shooed me out of her office. "You need to fix this, Alex, before Halloween night."

God--that was tomorrow night. "Why Halloween?"

"Ask Sam Emmett. He knows, the poor boy." Shock froze me. When I didn't move, she gently guided me to her door. "I will do what I can. But I won't face them, not again." My head snapped up, and I met her eyes. Old terror flashed in them, made fresh and new by yours truly. "I will see that the plans are destroyed, to prevent another accidental discovery."

"What about that boy?"

Despair and regret slumped her shoulders. "I'm afraid we can't help him. If he is even alive now." Opening the door, she pushed me into the hall. "Go. I just hope it isn't too late."

I stared at the door after she closed it, numb. Then the panic kicked in.

Clutching the note, I limp-ran to the side door and shoved it open, stumbling into the parking lot. My ankle throbbed in warning. I leaned against the building, grateful that I was the only witness to my panic, and pulled my phone out of my hoodie pocket.

My hands shook so much I had trouble tapping out Sam's phone number. His phone took me straight to voicemail. Not a good sign.

"Sam--call me as soon as you get this. I know the truth about the fire ten years ago." That should get his attention. I ended the call and speed dialed Dad's work number.

"Alex." I closed my eyes when I heard his low, steady voice on the other end. It helped calm me. "What's up, sweetheart?"

"Dad--" I cleared my throat, tears I'd been able to keep back until now burning my eyes. "I need your help."

"Where are you."

"Outside school. I'm--"

"Stay right there. I'm on my way." He hung up before I could get in another word.

I ended the call, wrapping my arms around me as the wind picked up. Halloween, the anniversary of the basement accident. That was no coincidence, and Mrs. Swiller all but confirmed my suspicion that the accident was no accident.

What did we do, by walking into that crumbling, underground haven? And why would Sam know? He wasn't much older than me, and would have been just a kid when the accident happened. Unless...

I refused to let my mind shut down, forced myself to finish out my thoughts.

Unless Sam wasn't attacked the same time as Jake. Or by the same creature.

I had always assumed--but Sam's scars bled more than two weeks after Jake attacked me and Misty. And that thought led to one I didn't even want in my head. But it showed up, like an uninvited guest.

What if Jake was the one who had attacked him?

Dad's truck roared up, saving me from myself. He leaned over and opened the passenger door. "Get in, Alex."

I climbed up and fell into the cab, closing the door as he revved the engine and tore out of the parking lot. And he wonders where I get my lead foot.

"Dad--"

"Tell me. No censoring, no hedging. I need to know all of it."

I gave him all of it--including Jake. And Sam, my heart breaking with every word.

By the time I finished, I was in tears, and Dad pulled off the road leading out of town, behind a group of gnarled oaks. He gathered me into his arms, rubbing my back until I cried myself out.

"Better?" I nodded against his chest. "Good. Now take this," he waved a tissue in front of me, "blow your nose, and look at me."

I did, taking my time with the nose blowing part, since that was the only stalling tactic I had. When I finished, I raised my head, bracing myself. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"What the hell do you have to be sorry about? You didn't start this mess, Alex. A group of paranoid people did, and tried to cover their tracks." He leaned against his door. "You really like Sam, don't you?"

His voice was gentle, and I almost burst into tears. Again.

"More than like," I whispered. It was hopeless--I was hopeless. I braced myself, waited for Dad to forbid me from ever seeing him again--

"I admire him, for being able to have a normal life with that hanging over his head."

"What?"

He smiled at me. "You expected an immediate banishment. Sorry to disappoint, sweetheart." I stared at him, not daring to believe. "What happened to Sam was not his fault. As long as he--" Dad cut himself off, rubbed his face. "I don't remember this particular dating scenario in any of the books I read on parenting."

I choked out a laugh. "Shocking."

"What I'm trying to say, Alex, is be careful." He cradled my cheek. "I wish I didn't like Sam, but I do. He has a code of honor, and I trust him to protect you. But if he ever--if he--"

"Changes?" I laid my hand over his. "It's been ten years, Dad. I don't think that's going to happen." I really, really wanted to believe that.

"Right." Dad patted my cheek, then lowered his hand and changed the subject. I was so grateful I wanted to kiss him. "Tell me more about the photo of the boy."

I did, giving him the last bit of information I had. "I recognized what was behind him in the photo. He's in Hyattown. We have to go after him--"

"Not we, Alex."

"Yes, Dad." I didn't contradict him often, because he was usually right. This time I had to stand up. "I started this, by asking you to look into the old plans."

"It started before that. Long before that. Don't take this kind of blame on your shoulders--"

"I won't be able to live with the blame I do own, if I don't try and save him. And there isn't much time. If Sam doesn't call me, I have to go and--" As if he'd heard me, the ringtone I programmed for him poured out of my hoodie. I fumbled the phone out and swiped the screen. "Sam--"

"Get out of Emmettsville, Alex. Take your family and get out."

"Sam--what--"

"Don't argue with me." He sounded--desperate. And scared, really scared.

I closed my eyes and shut him down. "I know about the little boy, Sam. I know about everything. Mrs. Swiller told me."

Silence roared across the line. I could hear him breathing, so I knew we were still connected. Finally, he let out a sigh. "And you're still talking to me."

I took in a deep breath, clutching the phone. "I'm your friend, Sam. And I want to hear the whole story. From you. After we save that boy."

I waited. This could be the end of it. Sam could just shut me out and hang up, or go back to not noticing my existence--

"Okay. But I have some more bad news. Two other kids are missing."

Oh, God.

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# Seventeen

I quickly learned that Sam's okay didn't mean "Okay, you'll save those kids with me."

"You are not going near Hyattown again, Alex."

"This is my fault. I broke whatever secret pact they made ten years ago--"

"You didn't know about it--"

"I'm going, Sam."

Real panic filtered through the anger in his voice. "You are not."

"I'll meet you at your house, Sam."

"No, you won't. I want you to go home. Now. Go home, and stay there. Better yet, get out, and don't come back until after Halloween."

"Not happening."

Sam continued to argue, until I hung up on him. I also shut off my phone, so he couldn't call back. No matter what he said, I was going to help get those kids back.

"Dad." I turned to him, my face flushing as I remembered what I'd said to Sam. In the heat of the argument, I completely forgot where I was, and who was with me. "Can you take me home? I need to--"

"No." His denial left me blinking in shock.

"But I--"

"You are not going to ditch me, Alex. We do this together, or you don't do it at all."

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.

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# Eighteen

The sun was setting when 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'd 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'd 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. The people involved in the basement fire must have known 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 mean 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'd also saved Katie, and had come 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 had given 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 had 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 back 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--"

"Sorry." Candace didn't sound the least bit sorry. "I'm going to rewrap it, and when we're done, we have a date with the x-ray tech. Got it?"

I nodded, afraid of what might come out of my mouth if I opened it.

"Hold still. This is going to hurt."

"Candace?"

"What is it, Finch?"

I swallowed, finally saying it out loud. "I'm scared."

She stopped, laid her hand on my calf. Her touch was warm, and more reassuring than I expected. "If you weren't, Alex, I'd be checking you to see if you lacked a brain. We're all in different stages of terrified, but we'll get through it, because we have each other to depend on."

"Impressive bedside manner, Corwin." Jake's voice broke the silence. Both he and Dad watched us, twisted around in their seats. "You practice that in the mirror?"

"Bite me, Jake."

He grinned. "My pleasure."

Candace snorted, but as she continued wrapping my ankle, I saw the smile hidden by her hair. She finished, and pulled an instant cold pack out of the kit, activating it before she set it on my ankle.

"That stays until we get there. I'll help you with your poor choice of shoe wear," she said, stopping my protest. "I'm trying to undo damage and a short arrival time with everything I've got." She slapped a protein bar in my hand. "Eat that, while you can."

I looked up, my heart skipping when I saw the familiar shops of downtown.

We were almost there.

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# Nineteen

At night, the McGinty house looked like a haunted house--spooky, crumbling, and creaking in every breeze off the nearby ocean. Thank goodness the entrance was outside. I didn't think I could go in there again, at night, with Jake behind me.

Sam kept driving, parking in a public lot down the street. The others unloaded while Candace helped me on with my boot. Not surprisingly, my foot had swelled during its freedom, and getting it back in the heavy, inflexible leather boot proved to be a painful exercise. The tighter wrapping made it throb more, but I could walk on it without feeling like it was about to give way.

I pushed the pain to the back of my mind and joined everyone in front of the SUV. Dad studied us while Sam passed out duffle bags> He shook his head, fighting a smile. "Try not to look like you're going into battle. It's Friday night, before Halloween."

He didn't need to say any more. When Halloween fell on a weekend, the town partied. I always wondered about the seriously odd attachment to this holiday; some years it was bigger than Christmas. What hid under our feet made me think there was more to it than the fun of dressing up.

Just how many people knew what had happened ten years ago? I felt like I'd been walking around blind.

I had to stop, before this gave me a headache. There was plenty of time to ask the big questions. After. And I really wanted there to be an after. For all of us.

Dad seemed to sense me falling deeper into the murk of my thoughts. He slipped his arm around my waist and started moving, slow enough for me to keep pace. "How's my favorite girl?"

"Terrified." Okay--didn't mean for that to pop out.

"You're not alone this time, Alex. Remember that." He squeezed me, tight, then let go, moving to the head of our little pack. Too little to be facing the green-eyed Devil we were about to face.

Dad's prediction wasn't far off. We ran into at least three parties along the street, and we were the ones who stood out, for our lack of costume.

"Hey!" A seriously drunk pirate, who looked like one of the local surfers, with his sun-bleached hair and dark tan, stumbled over to Candace and tried to hug her. She sidestepped with a speed and efficiency that told me she'd had plenty of practice. My guess was she got that practice in college, dodging male med students. Tall blonde goddess equals hard to resist.

Dad stepped in front of Jake before he could do something stupid. Jake looked furious, and more wolfish than usual. "We're late for our own party," Dad said.

"Yeah? What're you going as--losers?"

Dad grinned at him, tapping the shotgun pressed against his leg. "Monster hunters."

"Whoa--dude." The surfer swayed forward. I waited for him to keep going, all the way to the sidewalk. He managed to catch his balance at the last second. "Is that thing real?"

Dad winked at him, and started walking. "Halloween, my man," he said over his shoulder. "Time to believe in magic."

The drunk surfer stared at us as we walked past him, then raised his glass, spilling beer down the front of his blousy white shirt. "Waste 'em, dudes!"

Misty clapped one hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh. Dad let his laughter float into the night. It lightened my fear, and seemed to have the same effect on everyone else. Except Sam.

"Hey." Jake moved to him, bumped his shoulder. "Stop with the grim face, cousin. We know what we're walking into, and we have the advantage--she doesn't know we're coming. It's not all on you--"

"It should be." Sam sounded angry. He stopped in front of the rusted wrought iron fence surrounding the McGinty house, and turned to face us. "This is my fight. My family made this bargain a long time ago, and you shouldn't be--"

"Stop," I said. Before I could second guess myself, I moved to Sam. "This is about all of us now. The monster's out of the closet, and we have to shove it back in and lock the door. Us, Sam. All our families are at risk, and as scared as I am," I swallowed, kept going. "I can't walk away. I won't walk away."

Misty stepped up next to me, draped her arm across my shoulders. "We're here because we want to be. Because it's the right thing to do. I don't get the chance to be a heroine every day, so I'm taking it. Now let's go find those kids."

She took me with her as she headed for the gate. It was still open; from our last visit? Not many people hung out here, even around Halloween. "Hey, Alex?" I looked up at her, not surprised to see my own fear in her blue eyes. "Are we totally crazy to be doing this?"

I nodded. "Totally."

She swallowed, freeing her arm. "Just wanted to make sure I wasn't the only one on the crazy train." With her shoulders squared, she walked through the open gate and across the yard.

I had to admire her, since I figured she had the same memories of our first time here racing through her mind. And the source was right behind us, joking with her sister. For at least the hundredth time, I forced myself not to think about what might happen if Jake changed.

Dad caught up with me on the side of the house, and for the thousandth time I wished he wasn't part of this. Why did I pull him in? I could have found those plans on my own, found the sewers, the town, discovered the secrets of this place without him...

The memory of his truck screaming around the corner filled my mind, him leaping out with his shotgun to fight off my stalker. I let out a shaky breath. I may not even be here without him. That still didn't make me any happier that he was here.

He stopped all of us when we reached the entrance to the town below. "No heroics. We stick together. Our goal is to find those kids and get them out." He glanced at each one of us, pausing on Sam until he nodded. "Good. Now let's go get them."

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# Twenty

We lowered the duffle bags into the dark, narrow hole. Dad figured if something waited for us it would attack the first thing that appeared.

When nothing happened, Dad went down, his flashlight beam a beacon, and a guide for each of us as we climbed the metal ladder. Jake insisted on going last, to cover our backs. Not exactly someone I wanted behind me, where I couldn't see him if he--

I stopped that thought before it finished. There was no point. Not now, when we needed him to find our way to the nest.

We agreed before we got here to talk as little as possible once underground, since our voices would carry, and take away the one advantage we had--surprise.

I managed to get down the ladder without taking a header, my ankle screaming at me by the time I reached the bottom. Misty touched my hand, pressing the straps of my duffle against my fingers. I slung it over my shoulder, waited in the darkness, every nerve twitching.

The main valve for the gaslights didn't work. Dad pulled me in, whispered against my ear. "I'm going next door. It's the mayor's office, and there should be a secondary, at least for this street. Pass the message."

I didn't want him going anywhere alone, but I wanted to walk down here in complete darkness even less. Nodding, I stepped back, whispered to Misty. She nodded against my lips, and I felt her move away from me.

Relief flooded out the rising panic when a low, flickering glow spread across the main street. Dad came back, gestured to Sam to put his hand on Dad's shoulder. I got what he wanted, and had Misty move in front of me, since she could see more than short me. The single line chain kept us together, and left one hand free for--whatever. Another thought I didn't want to finish.

Because I was looking down, to keep from tripping on anything, I was the first person to see the lump in the middle of the main street. A lump that looked human.

My fingers dug into Misty's shoulder. Dad halted, obviously seeing it now. He whispered to Sam, flashed me a smile, and headed for the lump. My heart jumped when he started running. He dropped to his knees, lowered both the shotgun and his duffle, and carefully turned the lump over.

"Oh, God," Candace whispered. She pushed past me and ran to Dad, the first aid kit in her hand.

When he reached up to take it from her, I saw what Candace must have guessed. The lump was a little boy.

We all moved forward, crowding around the still figure. I covered my mouth when I recognized the blood splattered face. It was the boy from the photo on Mrs. Swiller's computer.

Candace worked over him, revealing a series of long gashes on his chest. "They're shallow," she whispered, taking the gauze Dad held out for her.

Dad laid a hand on her shoulder. "How long before we have to move him?"

She checked his pulse, then the wounds again, her hands skimming over him, probably to see if there were other injuries. "He's good for the next few minutes. But not any longer than that." She looked at Dad, waited until he nodded. "I'll stay with him."

"I'm staying, too." Jake crouched down next to her. She started to object, and he just pressed his finger against her lips. "You need someone to watch your back while you take care of him." He pulled the sewer map out of his pocket, handed it to Dad. "The nest is big enough that you'll trip on it. I have to stay."

Dad met Jake's eyes, and nodded. "We'll be as fast as we can. Give us ten minutes, then get the boy out of here."

The whispered conversation took about a minute, but it felt like ten times that, out here in the middle of a ghost town, with no idea where the monster was.

Dad stood, taking my hand. Misty latched on to my free arm, and I saw Sam do the same to her. We moved to the edge of the boardwalk, staying in the dirt street. I remembered how much those old boards creaked from our last time down here.

We had to go around the next building, and into the dark alley to get to the sewer entrance. Dad turned on his flashlight, tightened his grip on my hand, and moved into the alley. The entrance to the sewer finally appeared in the single beam, like a gaping mouth in the ground.

Letting me go, Dad turned around, leaned in to whisper against Misty's ear. I was next. "Give me your duffle. You'll go after Misty. Nod." I did, feeling him take the heavy bag. He reached for Sam.

We moved to the edge, and Dad knelt, tying our duffles together. He attached the other end of the rope to his belt, and pointed to his flashlight, motioning that he was going to turn it off. Misty grabbed my hand again, and I saw her take Sam's just before Dad switched off the light. It snapped in the silence, seemed to echo off the low ceiling, and the dark surrounded us.

With my ability to see gone, every noise around us felt like an approaching threat. Misty's fingers tightened around mine, let me know I wasn't alone. I identified the quiet shuffling as Dad, making his way to the sewer entrance, dragging the duffle bags after him. I remembered the ugly yellow glow coming off the monster; going in dark would make it easier to spot. Dad would fire up the flashlight again once he checked around the bottom of the ladder.

Until then, I had to stomp down my fear and deal.

His shoes tapped against the steel rungs, getting quieter as he climbed down. Misty squeezed my hand and let go. I felt more than heard her move to the entrance. For someone so tall she could be mighty quiet. Her shoes sounded different on the rungs--a soft scrape, like she was feeling her way along each one.

I was next.

Swallowing, I got down on my hands and knees, half afraid I'd trip and fling myself head first into the hole. My fingers found the edge, and I carefully turned around, easing my right leg back until my foot found the rung.

I shifted my weight to that foot, slid my left hand along the ground, and brailled my way to the side of the ladder. Closing my fingers around it, I took in a breath, gripped the ladder, and put all my weight on my right side. My left foot had trouble finding the next rung--my ankle throbbed so much I couldn't feel anything beyond that. When I was pretty sure I had my foot on the next rung down, I shifted my weight.

And met with air.

I scrambled to hold on to the ladder, breath lodged in my throat, when strong fingers caught my left wrist. Warm breath brushed over my skin, and when I lifted my head, loose strands of hair tickled my cheek.

"Hold still," Sam whispered, his voice more breath than sound. "I'm going to help you down."

I felt him slide down the side of the ladder, his bare arm pressed against my ribs, his muscles quivering with the effort. I heard his foot on the rung below mine, and felt him swing around until he was right behind me. If I weren't so scared I would have been breathless.

Then he wrapped his arm around my waist. I jerked, stilled when I felt my fingers slip. "One rung at a time," he whispered, his lips against my ear. "I won't let you fall."

I nodded, trying not to hyperventilate. My left foot finally connected, and we both eased down to the next rung. After a couple more, I started to actually enjoy having him hold me like this. I felt safe, for the first time in a while, and the trust I thought I had lost came roaring back.

By the time we reached the bottom I was more sure of my footing, and Sam let me go, only to grab me around the waist with both hands and guide me to the ground.

"Good job." His low voice sent a shiver through me. Then he let me go, for good this time. We turned around, bright yellow light greeting us from the bare bulbs strung along the curving wall of the tunnel.

Dad gathered us into a huddle, handing out the duffle bags. "I found the nest. No sign of it, or the other two kids. I did find blood. Not a lot," he reached out to Misty when she gasped. "But enough to make me think one of the kids might be injured. Follow me--I think I know where they went."

He refused to elaborate, hushing me before I could ask. We headed into a tunnel on the left, like a black hole compared to the lit one we stood in. Dad switched on his flashlight and led the way. I smelled the nest before his beam caught it. And it didn't reek, like I expected. Instead, it smelled--sweet, with another scent underneath, one I recognized, but couldn't identify. A few yards past the nest we hit water. Stagnant, algae covered water.

So much for a quiet approach.

Dad consulted the map, pointing out the two tunnels just ahead. "The one to the right curves back around. The left tunnel runs parallel to the town, and dead ends at another exit leading to the surface."

"Where?" Sam's choked whisper had me looking at him.

"The basement under the school. That's where I think they grabbed the kids. There was a Halloween party today for the elementary schools."

Sam swallowed, didn't say anymore. We kept moving forward, and Misty took my hand again. I wanted the connection as much as she did.

I thanked myself for wearing my stomping motorcycle boots--until the floor sloped down and the water hit my knees. That slimy, cold water poured inside my boots and soaked me from the knees down. Which felt good on my throbbing ankle, but not so much for walking.

Sam came forward and grabbed my duffle, taking my free arm when I started to struggle against the water. Between my saturated boots and my ankle, I was making far too much noise. Dad turned around, heading for me.

And I saw the yellow glow splash across the water next to him.

"Dad! Behind you!" My shout bounced off the tunnel walls. I yanked free and lurched forward just as the monster peeled itself off the wall and launched itself at him. "Dad!"

He whirled, ducking under the slashing claws. The creature came after him again and he used the shotgun as a club, bashing the heavy stock into the evil teddy bear face.

A horrible scream threatened to pierce my eardrums. Sam jerked me backward, stepping between me and the recovering monster. The fast recovering monster.

"Dad--no!" I pushed past Sam as Dad stood. Right in the path of the sweeping claws. He jumped sideways. The claws slashed his left leg. "No!"

His raw cry echoed mine and he went down. I probably would have joined him, but Misty appeared out of the darkness, waving a flare. The monster shrieked, and splashed out of sight.

She kept going, helped Dad stand, holding the flare up. I slogged over to them, covered my mouth. The sparking light revealed the ugly gashes on Dad's left leg. Gashes that ran all the way down his thigh.

Sam turned on his flashlight, took Dad from Misty and leaned him against the wall. "How bad?"

Dad tried to smile, failed miserably. "Bad enough. You need to go after--" He let out a gasp, clutching his thigh.

"Dad--"

"I want you to--go back, Alex. Wait with Candace and Jake." He lowered his head, water dripping off his hair. "Misty goes as well."

"I'm not--"

"I'll stay with him, Alex." Misty dropped the dying flare in the water, turned on her flashlight. "Get him back to the surface. We already lost the element of surprise, so the fewer going after that thing the easier it will be to hide. Besides, you're too short to get him up the ladder." She flashed a smile at me, then draped Dad's arm across her shoulders, wrapping her arm around his waist. "Come on, Mr. Finch. Sam will take good care of Alex. Not that she needs it--I've seen her in action."

"Alex." Dad reached out his free hand. I gripped it, and he pulled me in. "Come back, sweetheart. Promise me."

"I promise."

He leaned in, kissed my forehead. "Take care of my daughter, Sam."

"Yes, sir."

Misty moved forward. "Let's get you out of here, Mr. Finch, while that jacked-up teddy bear is licking its wounds. Seriously, a monster teddy bear? That is so wrong."

I stared after them, the knot in my stomach tightening every time Dad let out a moan. How much more would we pay to stop this thing? I rubbed my face. We would find out soon enough.

"Alex?" Sam's quiet voice calmed me. I looked up at him, saw the blame reflected in his eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"He'll be fine." I had to hold on to that, believe it. "Let's just get this done."

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# Twenty One

I limped past Sam, headed back to the nest.

It was home, and probably where the monster went to lick its wounds. I was done hiding and creeping in the dark. The Devil knew we were here; time to face it head on. Of course, Sam completely disagreed.

He grabbed my arm, stopping my limp-march. Before I could protest he pulled me into a side tunnel, one that sloped upward so it was, thank heaven, relatively dry. We kept going until it curved around, the main tunnel out of sight. This far in, the lights were still intact, blinking like the line had been damaged at some point.

"Are you out of your mind?" he whispered. "You saw what it did to Jake, to your dad. How can you possibly think you'd survive a face to face with it?"

"Because if it wanted the kids dead, they'd be dead by now." Or eaten. Okay--shoved that one right out of my head before it could take hold. Though it would probably take on a life of its own later. The downside of a vivid imagination. "And someone, or something, sent that video of the first kid. The Devil wanted attention. Well, it got exactly that."

"Okay, but let's be a little more cautious. There's no need to go storming in when we can check things out first, see if we can find an advantage. Any advantage," he muttered.

"Right." The adrenaline from Dad's attack faded, and my temporary sense of invincibility went with it. "Forget what I just said. It was the need for revenge talking."

He flashed a smile. A real smile. "Been there." He glanced at my feet. "Can I make a suggestion?"

"I'm not going to like it, am I?"

"Definitely not. Your boots are--loud."

"You mean ugly and obnoxious?" And full of water. I let out a sigh. "Fine. But I'm going to need your help."

He set our duffle bags on the cement floor, then helped me sit, pulling the boot off my good foot first. Water came gushing out. I rolled off the dripping sock, figuring barefoot would be better than sloshing around in cold, wet microfiber. I didn't think my miracle moisture-wicking socks could wick away this much moisture.

The second boot hurt, every single inch of the way. Once Sam got it off, I hugged my leg, my ankle on fire. He carefully eased my sock down, and sucked in his breath. My ankle was swollen to twice its size, bulging against the ace bandage. The bruises looked black in the flickering, sickly light.

"Can you walk on that?"

"I'll run if I have to." I let out a breath, slowly straightened my leg. My ankle practically screamed at me. "Or maybe not."

"You should stay--" He cut himself off, grabbing the wall.

"Sam?"

"Okay--just lost my balance. Give me your hand."

I did. His skin felt clammy; mine probably did, too. The water down here was cold, and seemed to feel colder the longer we slogged through it. He pulled me to my feet, and leaned against the wall. I touched his arm, startled to find him shaking.

"Sam." He looked like he did the other day at school. Just before he had collapsed. "Sam--"

I caught him as his knees gave out, and he knocked us both to the cement floor, landing on top of me. Impact left me breathless, but I recovered quickly enough to feel the difference in the skin under my fingers. He shuddered against me, every muscle clenched.

"Sam--"

"No," he whispered. "No--" The whisper escalated to a hoarse gasp.

I gripped his waist, braced myself to roll him off me. I froze when his eyes stared into mine, and started to change.

The clear grey-blue turned icy, primal. His pupils grew, black and furious. Those frightening, animal eyes stared down at me, mesmerized me.

He hauled me up and I let out a harsh gasp when he slammed me against the wall. "Alex," he whispered, his low voice coming out a growl. "Run."

Without warning the fingers digging into my arms turned lethal. Claws pierced through my hoodie, my shirt--he snatched them away just as the sharp tips brushed my skin.

"Sam--"

"Run!" I stumbled backward, but I couldn't leave him. Not like this. "Alex, please--"

He doubled, dropping to his hands and knees. Muscles bulged, and his t-shirt split at the seams. His ragged breathing turned into panting, and I pressed against the wall when hair started to sprout from his skin.

"Sam..."

His head flew up, and his lips curled back from teeth that had grown longer, pointed. His panting became pained yips as his nose stretched, and his cheekbones widened, the cracking sound of his bones shifting the most horrific thing I'd ever heard.

I didn't want to see anymore, but I stayed. For Sam. For some reason, I thought being here would help anchor what was still human in him.

"Sam." I forced myself to push off the wall, kneel down close to him. Those primal, inhuman eyes watched me, an icy grey-blue in a face that no longer resembled Sam. "I'm here. Stay with me, Sam. I need you to stay with me."

"Alex." My name came out as a low snarl. "Go."

I swallowed. "Not a chance."

He barked at me. Literally barked. "Go!" The word changed to a howl that echoed through the tunnel. If the monster didn't know where we were, it knew now. He lowered his head, panting and grunting, his newly formed claws scrabbling against the cement floor. "Won't--remember--"

"You will. Jake told me he remembered things when he changed. You can fight this, Sam. Please," I closed my hand over his, ready to be clawed at the very least. He went still. "Fight it, Sam."

After an endless minute he jerked free, crawling away from me. He left the shredded remains of his shoes and socks behind, clawed, hairy feet sliding over the cement. The seams of his jeans ripped with every movement, and with a horror that froze me, I watched him finish his transformation.

Seven plus feet of grey fur and sharp claws rose in front of me. I couldn't move. I wasn't sure I was still breathing. He looked terrifying and magnificent, his eyes glowing in the darkness. One claw reached for me, a low growl rumbling out of him. It reminded me of Jake--and snapped the paralysis.

With a shout, I scrambled to my feet and ran down the tunnel, ignoring the screaming from my ankle. My heart pounded so hard I expected it to burst right through my ribcage, and so loud I couldn't hear anything behind me. I risked a glance over my shoulder, turning back in time to see the lip of the tunnel entrance. Just before I tripped over it.

The snarl echoing behind me was enough to push me back to my feet.

Clutching the wall of the main tunnel, which was pitch black, I pulled the small flashlight out of my pocket and flipped it on. I limped forward, and took the closest, driest tunnel. The more noise I made, the easier it would be for Sam to track me.

My limp-run slowed to a limping walk pretty quickly. My ankle shrieked every time I put weight on it. And I had no idea where I was. Sam had the map. Abandoning the kids twisted my stomach, but I had nothing--no direction, no weapons, and a furious, freshly minted monster at my back. I kept going simply to put distance between us.

The tunnel took a sharp turn. And dead ended.

"No--" I stomped down my panic and searched the far wall. The beam found a ladder bolted into the wall, similar to the one that led down here.

I grabbed the ladder, put my right foot on the lowest rung before I turned off my flashlight and stuck it inside my hoodie. Taking a deep breath, braced for the inevitable pain, I pushed up. My ankle didn't disappoint.

The climb took forever, my left foot not cooperating at all. But I used the leverage of my arms to compensate, and only had a couple of heart stopping slips by the time I reached the top.

Wrapping my left arm around the top rung, I dug out my flashlight, turned it on with the beam pointing down, carefully inched it up. The first thing the sliver of beam caught was the back of a sagging, wood building. With a sigh, I leaned my head against the ladder. I was in Hyattown.

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# Twenty Two

Once I climbed out of the hole, I lowered myself to the dirt, flashlight tucked into my side, and took the time to catch my breath. Quietly. The monster could be anywhere, and it already had my scent. If that was how it hunted.

I hoped not--though running through algae infested water may have helped me. I sniffed my arm, and shrank back from the stench of sewer and me combined.

I wanted to find the kids, but I was alone, didn't have any idea where they might be, and not a weapon in sight. The duffle bags were with Sam.

Feeling like I failed everyone, I got to my hands and knees, the flashlight clutched in my teeth, and started crawling over to the building. After testing the wall for stability, I used it to stand, leaning against the welcome support.

I took the flashlight out of my mouth, shined it on the mess of bruises and swelling that masqueraded as my ankle, and put some weight on it. My left leg cried and moaned, but if I kept most of the weight on my right, I'd make it to the exit leading up to--

Wait--Candace and Jake were here, with the injured boy. Probably Dad and Misty as well. I wouldn't be alone, and maybe they already found the other kids.

Anxious, and relieved that help was nearby, I used the building as a support, limping down the side alley, hoping I could get my bearings when I reached the front--

A noise stopped me. I held on to the building, straining, waiting. There--a low moan, like someone was in pain. I lifted my head, spotting the window right above me, the broken glass looking like jagged, ugly teeth. I stiffened at the next sound that floated out--a sob, coming from the other side of that broken window.

Adrenaline pushed me forward, masked the pain of my ankle. I pulled myself up to the boardwalk, inching along the front, my flashlight pointed down, lighting far enough ahead of me to make sure I didn't go through rotted wood.

The door was locked, and there was fresh glass in the window next to the door, which told me I was on the right track. Dread knotted in my stomach, because there was no way a giant, punk black teddy bear could walk into the local hardware and buy a piece of glass. It had an accomplice. A human accomplice. It confirmed the suspicion I'd had since I saw the video in Mrs. Swiller's office.

Covering my face, I smacked my elbow against the corner of the window. It shattered under the pressure--and a sharp pain shot up my arm.

"Ouch--oh, damn," I gripped my elbow, expecting to find blood dripping from a nasty gash. It sure felt like the glass had gone straight through my hoodie and into my arm. No blood, but man, that hurt. At least I did what I intended.

Using the cuff of my hoodie to protect my hand, I knocked the loose shards out of the frame, reached in, and unlocked the door. It squealed when I opened it. I froze, waited for an attack. When nothing happened, I squeezed through, leaving it open. If someone, or something came in behind me, it was a guaranteed alarm.

I moved the flashlight over the room. It was empty, with only one other doorway, leading toward the side of the building where I'd heard the distress. I inched forward, along the wall, and discovered the old trick of walking along the wall to avoid a squeaky floor was a lie. At least in this case. Every step announced my presence.

A gasp echoed out of the doorway, and scrambling sounds. They already knew I was here. I didn't want to scare them any more than they already had to be. So I moved as fast as I could, the flashlight pointed straight at the dark doorway.

"Hello. I'm not going to hurt you--I'm here to help--oof--" I almost fell backward as a small weight slammed into me. I managed to hold on to my balance, the shaking body, and my flashlight, which I moved until I could see what held on to me with a death grip. My heart jumped. "Katie?"

"Alex--you came--you found us--" Quiet, heartbreaking sobs cut her off.

I wrapped my arm around her, whispered soothing words until she calmed down enough for me to talk to her. "Is there someone else here with you?"

She nodded. "Matt. He's in the other room. His leg is hurt, so I came out to make sure the monster didn't hurt him again--" She took in a shaky breath. "I thought you were it, or its accomplice."

"Did you see their face?"

"No. But it was a man. I saw that much before he tossed me in here. Matt's brother Marky escaped, but I heard him--" Her voice broke. She held on to me tighter. "Is he--"

"We found him." Katie pressed her face against me, crying again. "He'll be okay, sweetheart. Candace and Jake are taking care of him. I'm going to get you both out of here."

Katie led me into the room. My flashlight found Matt, huddled in the far corner, a rough bandage on his right thigh. The monsters--I lumped the accomplice into that category now--left them here, in complete darkness.

I moved over to him, slowly, talking the whole time. "Hi, Matt. My name is Alex, and I'm here to take you both home."

Tears stained his face. "Marky--"

"Is okay. A friend of mine is taking good care of him." Hope lit in his eyes, and he straightened. "Let's go join him."

He nodded, grabbed my outstretched hand. Katie helped him stand, and even though he topped her by several inches, she kept him steady as he limped forward. I moved ahead of them, checked the outer room again before waving them forward. The breaking glass would have brought anything in hearing distance.

We made our way to the front door, the youngest and smallest of us the most able bodied. I sincerely hoped we didn't run into either of their abductors.

Edging around the partially opened door, I scanned both sides of the building, and the alley beyond. I hated not being able to see anything coming at us. But in the scan, I caught sight of the still lit main street, which put us close to the exit leading up. To safety.

"Stay close," I whispered. "We're almost home free."

My fingers brushed over what felt like a big, old key, sticking out of the wall next to the door. Shining my flashlight on it, I realized what it must be. Swallowing, I tested my theory, and turned it.

Gaslight flickered to life, inside the room, and along the outside of the building.

Katie looked up at me as I let out a breath. "Cool."

Smiling, I hugged her, then Matt. "Let's get out of here."

I turned off the flashlight, keeping it in my hand. I felt better having some kind of weapon--just in case.

I got us off the squealing boardwalk, but stayed next to it, wanting the cover of the buildings at my back. Matt gasped every time he moved his right leg. I heard Katie talking to him in a low voice, coaxing him.

"We're almost there, Matt. I know you can make it."

I wanted to believe her.

We reached the main street, and I was relieved beyond belief to recognize our location. We were just down the street from the exit, and freedom.

The town sign was just a block away when my ankle twisted under me.

I grabbed the splintered wood of a support post, felt a small hand on mine. "Alex?"

"Okay, just a hinky ankle." I pushed off. "Let's get out of here." We headed to the ladder leading up to the surface. I expected Candace and Jake to still be here, taking care of Marky. Or at least Dad and Misty, resting before they climbed up to the surface. I must have been down there longer than I thought. "Come on. Katie, I want you and Matt to go up first, and wait for me at the top. This leads to the back of the McGinty house, so don't be scared when you come out."

Matt spoke for the first time since I found them. "I won't be scared of much, ever again, compared to this."

My heart ached at the grim look on his face. He was too young for such a memory. Hell, we all were.

Katie flashed a smile, helped Matt to the ladder. "Take your time," she said. "I'm right behind you." She sounded like a pint sized grown up. I was just glad for her calm, even if it was faked. I saw her hands shake on the ladder.

I took my flashlight out, snapped it on. "I'll shine this up behind you. It'll help until you get to the top."

Katie helped Marky on to the ladder, waited until he started climbing before she stepped on the first rung. She glanced down at me. "Thank you for--Alex, look out!"

I swung around. And the flashlight beam found a furred black chest. "Katie, move!"

I shot the beam right into the glowing green eyes and ran.

An inhuman scream echoed behind me. I knew I only had seconds before it shook off the effects of the light. I scrambled up to the boardwalk and into the first door I found, backing into the pitch black room as I heard heavy footsteps just outside.

Good news--it came after me, like I wanted, to give the kids time to get away.

Bad news--I didn't think beyond that. Now I'd trapped myself inside a dark building, with no way to defend against it. I decided to remedy that, while I had the chance.

I swept my flashlight beam around the room, looking for anything I could use to fight back. Anything.

Broken, rotting furniture littered the floor, smashed picture frames leaning against the walls. The torn remains of the photos were scattered across the floor, like someone in a rage tore them apart. Beyond the carnage I spotted another doorway, in the opposite wall.

Hoping I wasn't about to trap myself, I moved toward it, expecting the monster to come crashing through the door at any second.

Halfway across the room the smell hit me--that same sweet scent, with a familiar undertone. Heart pounding, I stopped in the doorway, let my flashlight scan the interior. And froze when I heard the low growl behind me. I had found the monster's nest--the real nest.

And it had found me.

~ ~ ~

Every brain cell screamed at me to turn around.

Instead I bolted into the nest, hoping I could find something in there to defend myself. Or a way out. The coward in me was definitely praying for a way out.

The flashlight beam found color, and more color. Every sweep landed on a swath of fabric, a pile of bright pillows, curtains framing a window.

A window.

I headed for it, realizing how huge the room was when it took longer than I expected to get to the wall with my escape route. I knew the monster was behind me. I could feel it, smell it.

Why didn't it come after me?

Once I got to the window I understood.

Bars covered it--thick iron bars I didn't see because they blended with the dark. As I flashed my light across them I noticed there was one bar missing. Maybe I could squeeze through...

That hope died when I focused my flashlight on the narrow space left by the bar. I was small, but not that small--

A flat yellow glow splashed over the bars. A familiar glow that stopped my heart.

Letting out a shaky breath, I turned around, my heart starting up again, and pounding so hard I felt it in my throat. The monster stood in the middle of the room, those glowing green eyes watching me. I finally had time to see the source of that glow, sitting in the middle of its chest. A pendant, hanging from a worn leather cord. A pendant shaped like the Algiz rune.

Safe haven.

It had come back, expecting to find just that. Or--God, maybe it had never left--

All thought flew out of my head as it smiled, the attempt horrifying, and reached up to touch the pendant. The yellow glow winked out, leaving my flashlight as the sole light source. Those green eyes studied me, unblinking, the rest of it blending into the darkness. And I understood the reason for the spiked fur. I couldn't see where its body ended and the dark around it began. The perfect camouflage.

It took a step forward. I recoiled, slamming into the wall.

My bare foot hit something cold and solid. I pointed my flashlight down, just long enough to see the length of iron. The missing bar. And I got an idea. A stupid, likely to get me killed idea, but at this point I had nothing else. I had to play in the monster's midnight world, but I was going to do it on my terms.

I pointed the flashlight straight at its eyes, its scream soundtracking my moves. It never seemed to understand the danger of the flashlight until too late. All I cared about was the extra seconds it gave me.

Crouching down, I grabbed the iron bar, whispered a quick prayer, and turned off the flashlight.

The bar turned out to be heavier than I expected. Slipping the flashlight in my hoodie, I gripped it with both hands and stood, closed my eyes, and listened. My dance teacher's voice echoed through my head.

"You will listen to Madame Chloe, feel my voice. Now move, and feel your partner--keep your eyes closed, let the blindfold do its work. Listen, sense, touch. Find them, dance with them, feel the music. You do not need to see to know."

I heard the monster shift, just to my left, a low growl rumbling in its throat. It could see me--how clearly I wasn't sure, but I knew by the light sensitive eyes, and the listing in the guide, that it was nocturnal. I just hoped it took more than a few seconds for it to recover from the flashlight beam.

Swallowing the panic that clawed up my throat, I forced myself to focus, let my other senses kick in.

The smell came at me first, then the sense of movement. And just like in dance class, I could almost see the monster's hand reach for me. I swallowed, prayed I was right, and swung the bar straight up.

It smacked into something, the impact nearly wrenching the bar out of my grip. I knew by the angry screech I had hit my target. I heard the claws tap on wood, moving away from me. My wrists ached from the first blow, and the weight of the bar. At most I had one more shot--

I screamed when the monster tackled me.

The bar flew out of my hands as we slid over the fabric draped on the floor. I opened my eyes, looking right into the furious, glowing green eyes inches from my face. I let out another scream as claws found the bare skin of my back, tried to escape them when they scraped their way up to my shoulder. I could hardly breathe for the pain.

The monster looked down at me, and I could see the triumph in those slitted eyes. It knew I was done, and now it just had to finish me off.

I was trapped, and I lashed out the only way I could.

I poked my fingers in its eyes.

A horrible shriek blasted me. The monster threw me across the room, and I hit the far wall back first. Fresh pain roared through me. I slid to the floor, forced myself to keep moving. I had to get out--I didn't have anything left if it came after me again.

I managed to get as far as the front door before the pain in my back dropped me. I dragged myself over the threshold and on to the boardwalk, listening for any sounds of pursuit. All I heard was a quiet whimpering, and in spite of everything, guilt speared through me.

Pushing it aside, I got to my hands and knees. My fingers brushed against a hard, cold object. I pretty much knew what it had to be before I looked down. The iron bar.

I grabbed it, feeling safer with the weight in my hand, and crawled as fast as I could to the edge of the boardwalk. With every move, the fabric of my shirt rubbed at the claw marks on my back, until it felt like my skin was on fire.

I made it to the end of the boardwalk and eased my legs over the edge. Next step, standing. I hoped it would actually happen once I put weight on my legs. The bar would come in handy for that. I braced it against the ground, held on with both hands and leaned over.

That move saved my life.

The monster clipped my shoulder instead of tackling me. It was enough to knock me off the boardwalk. Instinct had me jerking the bar up. Just as the monster charged me.

The raw edge punched into its body like a lance. Horrified, I let go. The monster sank to its knees, gripping the iron bar in one claw, the other tearing at the wound, each move weaker. Thick, dark liquid poured over both claws, pooling on the dirt. Blood--

I let out a low cry and crabbed backward. I couldn't leave, knowing I'd caused this. So I knelt, tears streaming down my face, and watched the monster collapse, curling around the bar before it went still.

The knowledge of what I had just done drove through me. I wrapped both arms around my waist, the pain of it wringing sobs out of me.

I had killed.

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# Twenty Three

I would have knelt there, crying myself into oblivion, if not for a pained yelp somewhere behind me.

"No..." I couldn't do it again. It already felt like my heart had been ripped out. I couldn't kill again.

The yelp came again--only this time I recognized it. "Sam?"

I stumbled to my feet, taking one last look at the monster. "I'm so sorry," I whispered. My shaking fingers stopped just before I touched it. "I never meant--I just wanted to keep the kids safe, to get away..." Nothing I said would change what happened.

I limped toward the alley, and the sewer entrance I'd climbed out of, moving faster when I saw a pale figure sprawled next to the entrance. Gaslights flickered over the familiar face, the streaked blonde hair. "Sam!" I halted, one hand covering my mouth. "Oh--"

Sam was on his side, his back to me, very human. And very naked.

Heat spread over my face. I looked down at my hoodie, and pulled it off. It was maybe big enough to cover his rather spectacular butt. Hey--how could I not notice? It was right there.

The long, ugly scars running down his left thigh distracted me from the view. They looked as old as the scars on his shoulder, but these wounds had been deep, and potentially crippling. Then I saw, just below his knee, a vicious bite mark, the scars thick and ugly. And bleeding.

I glanced from my small hoodie to Sam's muscular body. It was not going to cover much. He may have been lean, but there was more than six feet of him.

I lowered myself to the ground and draped it over his hip, startled by the long slashes on the sleeve. Sam had more control than he thought--I didn't even have a scratch on my arms from his claws.

Cradling his head, I brushed sweat matted hair off his cheek. "Sam." He groaned. "Sam, please, you need to wake up."

He opened his eyes--and I barely kept myself from dropping him. His eyes still looked like the animal that threatened me, chased me right to the monster.

No--I'm not going to blame him. Not for something he had no control over.

He blinked, and his eyes changed, back to the grey-blue I grew up loving, wanting to notice me. Never in my wildest dreams could I have ever thought up this scenario.

"Alex," he whispered. Then his eyes widened, and he tried to free himself. "Get away from me." He didn't have the strength to pull free, and I wasn't all that strong myself at the moment, which told me he was worse off than he looked. "I don't want to hurt you again--I can't control--"

"Sam." He closed his eyes. "We'll deal with it, after I get you out of here."

"The kids?"

"Safe, I'm pretty sure. I sent them up top, so they should be with everyone else. Sam, Katie was one of them."

He met my eyes. We would have to talk about the significance of that. Once we got out of here.

"I need to--" He tried to sit, let out a low moan.

"Sam." I didn't know how to be delicate about it, so I told him fast. "You're naked."

"I'm--what?" He looked down at himself, and color flushed his cheeks. "Is that--"

"My hoodie. It's all I had. You will have to, um," I waved my hands in the direction of the hoodie. "Adjust it yourself."

The flush deepened, and his hand hovered over the scars on his leg before he sat and tried to, unsuccessfully, wrap the hoodie around himself. He finally gave up, and tied it around his hips, the majority of the fabric hanging down in front.

"Okay." He started to run one hand through his hair, and gave up when it got caught in the matted length. His head snapped up. "Where is the monster?"

"I--" Swallowing, I blinked back the tears that threatened again. My whisper barely crossed the space between us. "I killed it."

"Alex." He laid one hand on my shoulder--and hit the top of the scrapes left by the monster. I recoiled, hissing from the pain flaring across my back. "Let me see."

"It's nothing--"

"Turn around."

I did, heat spreading across my face when I felt him lift my shirt. I'm--let's just say not gifted in the chest area. As in I missed the line when they handed those out.

I usually wear a camisole, but with all the scrapes and bruises I'd acquired lately, I chose a dark, loose shirt instead. So when Sam lifted the hem, he got an eyeful of bare skin.

He touched my back, the warmth of his fingers sending a different kind of heat through me. "Why didn't you tell me you'd been hurt?"

"Not important." I eased away from him, pulling my shirt down. "We need to get you out of here." I pushed up to my knees, and kept moving, so he wouldn't say anything embarrassing, or fuss over me. Right now, I didn't deserve it. "Think you can stand?"

"We'll find out."

Sam lifted his left arm, flinching at the movement. I figured he pretty much hurt everywhere, after the--change. I tucked myself under his arm, the weight of him against me familiar now, and something I would miss. Horribly.

I had no delusions of us being any more than friendly strangers after this was over.

"Ready?"

He nodded, and shifted, slowly standing on his own. The muscles in his legs quivered, but they held him up. His strength had always impressed me on the playing field, but even more so now, after what he'd been through.

Sweat slicked his skin, soaking into my cotton shirt. "Sam?"

"Okay," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Let's just get out of here."

I nodded, my throat tightening as I realized we would have to pass the body of the monster to get to the exit. Leading Sam down the side of the building, I braced myself to face what I'd done. And jerked to a halt after we turned the corner.

The body was gone.

"Oh, God." Relief left me shaking--relief that I didn't kill it.

A second later, panic stomped on the relief. I didn't kill it--so it was still here, and obviously not as dead as I thought.

"--wrong? Alex." My head snapped up at Sam's voice. "What?"

"The monster--here." I pointed, my arm shaking from the shock of not seeing what should be in the middle of the street.

"The body is gone," he said. I nodded. He'd admirably followed my babbling. "Then let's get out of here, before we find it."

"Right." I shoved down the panic, and focused on moving Sam forward.

We passed the spot where it should have been, and I saw the pool of dark liquid, almost black in the low, flickering gaslight. A should-be-dead-it-bled-out-so-much size pool.

I must have made a sound, because Sam tightened his grip on my shoulder. "Alex?"

"Okay." I offered him what I hoped looked like a smile. "Almost there."

Now I just had to figure out how to get a six foot naked guy up the ladder.

~ ~ ~

"Alex!" Dad's voice echoed down the hole.

"Dad..." For the second time relief almost knocked me over. "Is everyone okay? Do you have the kids--"

"Katie's fine, sweetheart. They're all fine." I leaned my forehead against the ladder, tears stinging my eyes. "Is Sam with you?"

"Yes--we're going to need some help. He was--" I looked at him, and he shrugged, turning his head away. I could feel him withdrawing, even though I still had both arms wrapped around him. "I won't tell them, Sam, but we need some help." He gripped the ladder, nodded. I called back up to Dad. "Is Candace with you?"

"Yes, she is," Candace said. I smiled. "Does she need her first aid kit?"

"Not until we get up there."

"Thank God. I thought I was going to have to stitch up another Emmett on the fly. Back away from the ladder, I'm coming down."

I settled Sam against the closest wall, He slid his arm off my shoulders, and stared at the ground. Here it was--time for the brush-off.

"Alex--"

"Stop." He lifted his head, surprise clear on his face. "I don't need the added rejection on top of everything else."

"Alex, I--"

"Let's just call this a win, and go back to the way things were." Like I could ever forget what I saw, what I knew now. I glanced up when I heard the sound of shoes tapping on the metal rungs, and could see soft light beyond Candace. "Happy Halloween, Sam."

"What--"

"It's tomorrow. Today." I blinked, feeling the tears I knew I wouldn't be able to control. "Take care of yourself." Candace dropped down to the ground and turned, one eyebrow raised when she saw Sam. "You can handle this from here?"

She opened her mouth, probably to throw a smart comment, but only nodded after a long look at me. "Go on. Your dad's worried."

I didn't take that one last look at Sam. Instead, I grabbed the ladder, and started climbing, tears already sliding down my cheeks.

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# Twenty Four

Mom was waiting for us when we got home.

"Beth." Dad halted just inside the door, half-carrying me. We were bloody and battered, and I was still in tears. "Alex was caught in--"

"If you can't tell me the truth, Raleigh, stop talking." We both stared at her. "I'm not an idiot, you know. Something has been going on, and I will wait until you feel you can tell me. Just don't keep me waiting too long."

She took us into the kitchen, examined all of Candace's handiwork, then set a plate in front of each of us--with what had been a well-planned turkey dinner. Now it was cold, the gravy a glop of brown goo on the mashed potatoes, and the rest of it just as unappetizing. Dad flinched.

"Honey, I--"

"Call the next time you're going to try to save the world while lying to me about it. I'll hold dinner for you. Now go to bed, Raleigh. I'll take Margaret up."

That stopped his protest. I fought to control my tears as he limped out of the kitchen, a low moan accompanying every step.

"Mom." She turned around, and I caught the fear on her face before she managed to cover it with a smile. "I'm sorry."

The smile faded. "I want to believe you trust me, sweetheart, as much as you trust your father."

That stung. Worse, I deserved it.

"I do. It's just--you--"

"Panic easily?" She sat down, took my hands. "When it comes to you, I have a hard time. We are so different--I loved dolls, and wanted to be a mom. You wear motorcycle boots, and try to kill yourself on that mountain bike of yours. No, let me finish." I closed my mouth. "That doesn't mean I won't protect you with my life if necessary."

"Mom--" The tears came again. I seemed to have lost control over them.

She helped me stand, careful of my bandaged back, and led me through the quiet house. "Tell me what you can, when you can, sweetheart. Until then, I'll trust you to come home again when you walk out that door."

My mom was more awesome than I could have imagined.

I really wished I could tell her the truth.

~ ~ ~

Halloween passed in a blur of costumes, laughing kids, and mountains of candy. I passed it out because it was something to do to keep my mind off, well, everything. And since pretty much everyone does the trick or treat route--age not a factor here­--I was busy most of the night.

It kept my mind occupied, and I really needed that distraction right now.

Katie and the two brothers were fine, home with their families--and probably out there, grabbing their share of candy. Kids were resilient.

Me--not so much.

The last of the die-hards wandered through just around midnight. Exhausted, I turned off the porch light and locked the door.

The house settled around me, deadly quiet. Dad had rallied after a good night's sleep, and he and Mom attended their annual all-night dinner dance, with Dad using his costume as the perfect excuse to have a cane. He went as Charlie Chaplin.

So I was home, alone. The absolute last thing I wanted right now.

Resigned to a sleepless night, after everything that had happened, never mind the constant reminder of my injuries, I headed for the stairs. A knock on the front door turned me around.

Without even thinking about it, I picked up the half empty candy bowl and unlocked the door, swinging it open.

"You're lucky--I was just about to--"

I clutched the door, and stared at Sam.

"Hey, Alex."

"Sam..." My throat locked up. Taking in a shaky breath, I focused. "Are you okay?"

"Better." He flashed a smile. "Candace did a thorough examination." His smile faded. "I'm leaving Emmettsville. I just--I wanted you to know, to tell you myself. To thank you. I'm so sorry for what happened." Before I could think to react, he leaned down and kissed my cheek. "Goodbye, Alex."

I limped after him, my mind screaming what I wanted to tell him.

Don't go. I want you to stay. I'm in love with you and I don't know what to do about it.

All that came out was his name. "Sam."

He paused next to his SUV, as scarred now as its owner, and refused to look at me. "I have to do this. I can't be trusted--" He yanked the door open, and slid in, finally lifting his head. "I'll miss you."

I watched him slam the door, gun the engine, drive away. And stood in front of my house, the music of my neighbors' Halloween celebrations floating in the night air as my heart shattered.

~ ~ ~

"He did what?" Misty slammed her books on the library table. Heads popped up around us, and Mrs. Swiller gave her the evil eye from across the library. She simply nodded at me, and went back to reading the book on her desk.

Misty lowered her voice this time. "You just let him walk away."

"I didn't--there was--" I laid my head on the table. "Yeah."

"So why are you just sitting here?"

"What?"

"He's still home."

I lifted my head. "He didn't leave?"

"Not yet. Candace went out to the mansion today to do a follow up." I stared at her, hope threatening to break through the ache that had locked me in its grip all weekend. "Well? You have a thing for him or not?"

I blushed. "I--he--"

"Good God, Alex. A blind man the next town over could see how you feel. Now go tell him." I glanced at Mrs. Swiller. "I'll create a distraction." Misty rubbed her hands together. "Now go spill your heart out all over him." She touched my wrist. "He couldn't do better."

My blush deepened. "What if he--"

Misty pulled me to my feet. "He won't. Now get out of here." She gave me a gentle shove toward the door, and headed across the library. "Mrs. Swiller--I really need your help finding this book."

Mrs. Swiller stood, surprise on her face. "Miss Corwin? Did I hear you correctly? You need assistance with a--book?"

"Last I checked, this was a library."

Laughter followed me out the door.

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# Twenty Five

Because of my still tender ankle, I had driven to school, which made getting to Sam easier. Once I slid into my MG, I didn't remember the drive, until I ended up in front of the Emmett mansion.

Sam stormed out before I could finish opening my door. Swallowing, I stepped out of the car.

"Sam--"

"What are you doing here?" He took my arm and turned me around. "Get back in the car, and drive away--"

"No."

He froze, staring at me. Finally, with a sigh, he dropped his hand. "You're not going to leave, are you?"

"Not until we talk."

He blinked, obviously surprised by my assertive tone. "Come inside."

I followed him in, through the living room, saw the covers on all the furniture. Sam wasn't the only one leaving.

He took me into a small den and closed the door. "Hold on."

Moving slower than usual, he removed the sheet on the small sofa, started to fold it.

"Sam." I pulled it out of his hands, feeling different, like I was the one in charge of this moment. Fighting off a monster on my own had given me a new sense of confidence. For the first time, I felt like I belonged here. "Where are your parents?"

"They left yesterday, to get the house ready."

"Oh." So we were alone.

Absolutely alone, with no impending danger, possibility of pursuit or imminent death to distract. Swallowing, I stared down at the sheet in my hands.

That new sense of power and control? Gone, history, leaving the bumbling idiot I normally became around Sam.

So much for the new me.

Sam took the sheet and set it on the end table. I sat before my knees gave out on me, and jumped when Sam sat down next to me, so close his knee pressed into my leg.

"Why are you here, Alex?"

Because I'm an idiot.

"I wanted to tell you--" I clapped one hand over my mouth, but it was too late. I could tell by the curiosity on Sam's face that I'd have to finish. Then I could escape and bury myself in mortification and ice cream. Definitely ice cream.

"I have to leave soon, Alex. What is it?"

"Right." I took in a deep breath, and decided to play the coward. "I'm glad you're okay."

To my surprise he looked--disappointed. "Thanks to you. If that's all, let me walk you to your car--"

"Okay." Coward, fool, idiot, loser. That last one stung--and I didn't want to be any of those anymore.

Sam started to stand. Before I could talk myself out of it I grabbed the front of his shirt, yanked him forward and kissed him.

I was kissing Sam Emmett.

And he wasn't kissing me back.

I pulled away, let him go, already planning the route to the new school I'd have to transfer to, when a miracle happened.

Sam wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me back.

His lips were an inch from mine, his breath warm, uneven. Then he pushed me away and stood.

"I can't," he whispered.

"Sam--"

"I'm a monster, Alex! You need to stay away from me. Far away." He headed for the door. With a burst of speed I didn't know I had in me, I bolted off the small sofa and intercepted him. "Alex--"

"I don't care." I did what would have been unthinkable, impossible, just weeks ago. I spread both hands on his chest and looked straight into those mesmerizing eyes. "I don't care."

"I do." He closed his hands over my wrists like he was going to pull me away, but he just lowered his head. An ache spread through me at the absolute defeat in his slumped shoulders. "I care too much," he whispered.

Shock zinged me. "What?" My heart pounded so loud I could hardly hear my voice.

"You think I didn't notice you, watching me?" He lifted his head. "Tracking me, with those sea nymph eyes?"

"You..." I couldn't think straight. I believe I just had heart failure. That had to be it; a short, temporary loss of blood flow, enough for reality to slide right out of my brain. "No."

Fabulous comeback, Alex.

"Ever since I was--attacked, I promised myself I wouldn't put this burden on someone else. Someone innocent. I almost made it. Then I saw you, following me with those eyes as I walked down the hall. I thought I could make it until graduation, then leave here, leave you behind, where you'd be safe. A good memory."

I couldn't catch my breath. My heart pounded so hard, so fast, my chest hurt. "You--saw me?" He nodded. My knees just gave out.

I clutched the front of his shirt. He let me go--and gripped my waist, steadying me. That had to be the only reason.

This was Sam Emmett--his type didn't notice my type. It violated all the laws of high school cliques, of them vs. us. But there were those three words, three words that could shatter me if I was wrong.

"You saw me," I whispered.

"I saw only you after that first day." He let out an uneven breath, and let me go, gently prying my fingers off his shirt. "You need to leave now, Alex. This can't--" He backed away. "I can't take the chance that I'd hurt you."

He already did, with every step he took. "You won't."

"I have no control!" He clenched his fists, so hard they shook. "When I--changed, I had no control, over anything. I could have--"

"You didn't." I took a step forward. He retreated.

"I don't remember--I wouldn't remember if I did hurt you--"

"You won't." I kept pace as he retreated, every step making me feel more confident, more sure of what I wanted.

"Alex--I can't take that chance." He bumped into the wall, and I had him right where I wanted. In the corner, with nowhere to run. "Please go." He sounded--desperate.

"Not a chance."

I grabbed the front of his shirt, deliberately this time.

"Alex." Panic flared in his eyes. "What are you doing?"

I lifted myself up on my toes, barely feeling the twinge in my left ankle. "This," I whispered.

And went in for the kill.

His lips were soft, his breathing ragged. And another miracle happened. He kissed me back.

With enthusiasm.

Hauling me up against his chest, he kissed me like I'd always wanted to be kissed--fierce, demanding, all consuming, but with a gentleness that told me he cared. And that left me lightheaded. I barely felt the pain as his arms pressed into the scratches on my back.

When the kiss ended, we stared at each other, fighting for breath.

Sam got his back first. He leaned his forehead against mine. "Worse than I thought," he whispered.

I jerked back. "What?" I didn't think I did that badly. Actually, I thought I was pretty amazing, considering I don't have much in the way of experience. "What did I--"

Sam laughed, pressed his lips to my forehead. I closed my eyes, reveled in the feel of it. Of him, invading my personal space. "You got in. All the way in." He let out a sigh, tightened his arms around me. This time I gasped, pain flaring under the bandages.

"Alex--God, I forgot. Turn around."

"It's okay--Candace took care of--"

"Now."

I turned around, swallowed when his fingers touched bare skin. "They won't scar, will they?"

"Probably not. She said they were shallow."

Sam lowered my shirt, his hands sliding up my arms. "Just another reason for me to leave. You'll be safe."

I stilled. By the time his words sank in, and my brain started to function again, he had already let me go, moved to the window. "Sam--"

"I have to go, Alex. If I don't find a way to--live with this, I'll end up like the monster that attacked you."

I wanted to deny--wanted to scream it. But I couldn't, because he was right. I had run from what he became, terrified for my life, even knowing it was Sam behind those inhuman eyes.

Letting out a sigh, I limped over to him. "I don't want you to go." I took his hand when he started to argue. Another small miracle. "But I understand why. That doesn't make it any easier."

"Tell me about it."

He pulled me in, wrapped his arms around me, gently this time, and rested his chin on the top of my head. Who knew we'd fit together so perfectly? Like it was meant to be?

I slid both arms around his waist, just holding on.

While I could.

~ ~ ~

Sam left the next morning. I found a note from him in my locker, and spent the day holding it, half afraid to read it, to have in writing that yesterday was all a big mistake. After school, I retreated to my room, thankful that my parents were both out on jobs.

Huddled against the pile of pillows on my bed, I opened the now wrinkled envelope, unfolded the paper.

Alex,

I don't have much time, and too much to say. I don't know how long I'll be gone, but I'll miss you every second. I want you to do something for me--live your life. Be happy. Don't wait for me, don't put anything on hold because of me. You deserve everything, and I don't want you to hold yourself back because of empty promises. So I won't make any. The best thing for both of us is for you to forget about me. Since I know you won't do that--just do what's best for you. Always.

love,

Sam

I let the note slip through my fingers, and clutched the nearest pillow, my tears soaking the soft cotton pillow case.

I'm not a big crier, but losing Sam like this hurt, more than anything else that had ever been thrown at me.

I was blowing my nose when the doorbell rang. Moving slowly, I headed downstairs, figuring if I took long enough, the unwanted company would get the hint and leave. I stood on tiptoe and looked through the peep hole--installed by two tall parents who thought they'd have a tall child.

The last person I expected to see stood on the porch, smiling at me.

I opened the door. "Jake. What are you doing here?"

"Checking on you." The smile faded. "I know Sam left, and a blind man--"

"In the next town could see how I feel." I let out a sigh. "I thought you went with them."

"And leave the beautiful Dr. Candace? I've had more time to adjust to what Sam's going through now." I stared at my feet. "Hey." Strong fingers closed over my shoulder. "He'll get through it. Can I come in?"

"Oh--sure." Feeling like an idiot, I opened the door all the way and let him in. "I'm not my usual, entertaining self."

"Noted." He flashed a smile over his shoulder as he walked into the living room and lounged on the sofa. "Any chance at something to drink?"

I shook my head, a smile creeping across my mouth. I couldn't help myself, he was just so charming. Even knowing what hid under that angular, handsome face, he lifted my mood by being here. "I think that can be arranged."

I got him a big glass of cider, left over from Halloween. "Thanks," he said.

"Can you give me a minute? I want to rinse my face."

"Sure. Hey, Alex?" I paused in the doorway. "You're going to be okay. Just remember you're not alone."

"Thanks."

Once I was out of sight, I sagged against the wall, my throat so tight I had trouble taking a breath. I had started this school year alone, expecting to just make my way, like I did every year.

Instead, I discovered that my ordinary beach town was far from ordinary, made some friends I could really count on. And found the love of my life, only to lose him.

I didn't hear Jake behind me--until he closed his hands over my shoulders.

With a strangled sob, I turned into the wall, mortified that he'd caught me crying.

"No hiding, sweet girl. I know you're hurting. Now come here." He pulled me into his arms, picked me up when my crying turned a little--hysterical. "That room behind the kitchen okay?"

I nodded against his shoulder, surprised he remembered. He carried me through the kitchen and settled me on the leather sofa in the office, going back to close the door. Meanwhile, I curled into a ball of pain and tears, trying to disappear.

"Nope--not dealing with this one alone." Jake sat next to me, draped one arm across my shoulders, and slid me up against his chest. "Now go to town, Alex. I don't have anywhere to be at the moment."

I took his advice, shocked by how much I needed the release. In between bouts of crying, I basically spilled my guts, about everything. You know that saying--that sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger than your best friend? Completely true.

When I got to my suspicions about him being the monster's human accomplice--until it attacked him--he laughed so hard he almost knocked us both off the sofa.

"Sorry." He gasped for breath, still chuckling. "I haven't laughed like that since--I can't remember the last time. What makes you think it had an accomplice?"

I told him about the video, the fact that it had been emailed from a school computer. That the monster had been in the video, so there was someone else--or something else, working the camera. And about the new window glass, in the building where I found Katie and Matt.

He studied me, thoughtful. "Makes sense. It's something we can add to the list."

I thought about the book hidden in my dresser. Thought about telling Jake, and changed my mind. For now. "What list?"

"The list Candace and I started. Of freak accidents, reports--oh, and a possible cure for me and Sam."

After my heart settled back in my chest, I grabbed the front of his shirt. "Tell me you're not joking."

He covered my hands, no trace of a smile. "I'm not joking."

"Oh, God."

"Yeah."

I curled in to his side, and we stayed that way, talking every once in a while, until the room started getting dark.

He left before my parents got home, to avoid an uncomfortable scene, as he so delicately put it. I watched him walk down the driveway, and get into a sleek black MG parked behind mine, much more high-end, and obviously manufactured for driving in the UK. After the engine purred to life, he leaned out the window.

"Nice car."

I smiled, for the first time since I knew Sam was really leaving, and waved at Jake as he backed into the street and roared off. Hugging myself, I stared up at the sky, watched the first stars wink into sight.

If there was a cure, Sam and Jake could be normal, be human again, with no fears.

Sam could come home.

I turned toward the door, and froze. A flat, yellow glow surrounded the knob. As I inched closer I discovered the reason.

My heart jumped into my throat, my fingers shaking as I touched the heavy pendant, its thick leather cord wrapped around the knob. The pendant I last saw glowing around the monster's neck. In Hyattown.

Panic shot through me. I whirled, searching the sidewalk, the driveway, the street. No green eyes watching me. Not yet.

My fingers still shaking so badly I kept fumbling, I finally unwrapped the heavy cord, clutching it as I did one last sweep before I closed the door and double locked it, backing away. I could feel it out there, watching, waiting.

It was still alive. It was here.

And it knew where I lived.

~ ~ ~

I locked everything in the house, happy to deal with any questions from Mom about the sudden paranoia. Right now, I needed that security to even begin to touch the panic churning through me.

After limping upstairs, I closed and locked the door to my bedroom--something I never do--and moved to my dresser. The pendant got shoved into the back corner of my bottom drawer, under my too ratty to wear anymore leotards. I took out the small guide I'd stuck there. It had a new home now.

Red sat on my desk, open and waiting. With a sigh, I lowered myself to the chair, and booted her up. I wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight.

After checking my email, hoping for a message from Sam, I closed it when I didn't find anything, and opened the file I had started after crawling up from underground.

The Monster Files

Like the book sitting next to me, I planned to create my own guide--to the monsters I'd already encountered, and the monsters I expected to come across. Because, seriously, how could I bury my head now that I knew about them?

And how could I walk away now that I knew there was a chance for Sam, a chance to keep him from becoming one of them?

Time to make a plan.

I opened the guide, took a deep breath, and started typing.

My name is Alex Finch, and this is a record of my encounters--with monsters I didn't know existed. Now that I do--now that I am in love with one of them--I need to know more. I need to know if what's in the guide I included with this file is real. I need to know if the wounds on my back will be more than just wounds.

This is where I'll write down everything I discover. Good or bad.

This is where I'll tell my story.

~ ~ * ~ ~

Thank you for joining Alex and her friends in their first adventure!

Want an advance notice of the next release- and be in on some exclusive contests? Then sign up for my list: <http://catedeanwrites.com/join-my-list/>.

I'll leave you with a preview of Truth and Consequences, Book 2 of The Monster Files, which is available now. Enjoy!

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# Excerpt from Truth and Consequences

I got everything I wanted--plus a shoulder massage from Mom, who has magic fingers. After that I had to practically crawl up the stairs. I was just grateful I didn't have school this week.

I made it to my room, pushed off the pile of decorative pillows and flopped on the bed, groaning when I saw the latest self-defense articles on my other pillow, mocking me.

I promised I'd read or watch something every day. I planned to enroll in some sort of instruction, on the sly, and the articles/videos helped narrow down the plethora of choices.

Sitting up, I grabbed the pile of paper, started reading the top article, one I'd found on knife fighting. It was--let's just say a little bloody, so I set it aside, queasy from the really visual descriptions.

And the pendant caught my eye.

I'd started leaving it on my bedside table, as a reminder of what was out there, possibly waiting for me every time I stepped outside my house. It looked like a piece of costume jewelry, so Mom ignored it.

And Dad already knew I had it--I couldn't keep double locking everything in the house without some sort of explanation.

I reached out and snagged the leather cord. The pendant, shaped like the Anglo-Saxon Algiz rune, was made of some kind of dense, unbreakable opaque glass that glowed yellow when it was turned on--somehow. I hadn't figured that out yet. The Devil just touched it. Maybe if I was wearing it...

Swallowing, I lifted the cord over my head, and eased it down, until the pendant tapped against my ribs. When nothing happened, I unclenched my muscles, and cradled it in my right hand.

"Why won't you light up? I wonder if it's set for a particular--" I blinked as it started glowing, the rune pulsing with a brighter, richer yellow than I remembered. Mesmerized by the light, I didn't hear Mom until it was too late.

"Sweetheart." She swung open my door, and I froze, waiting for the inevitable questions. Instead, she looked past me--no, through me, like I wasn't there. "Raleigh, I thought you said she was in her room."

Dad appeared behind her, and looked right at me. His gaze dropped to the pendant in my hand, and both eyebrows lifted. I recognized that gleam in his eyes--it almost got him killed the last time I saw it.

"She did mention going over to Misty's, to work on their school project. We'll leave her a note, Beth."

"All right." She turned, and wrapped both arms around Dad, her face pressed against his shoulder. "After you both came home injured last month, I don't really want either of you out of my sight."

I could tell by the sound of her voice she was crying. Dad had tried to lie his way out that night--and Mom shut him down, just asking for the truth when we could tell her.

She had been so calm, celebrating Halloween like she always did, at an all-night dinner dance with Dad.

Now I saw how much she held back around me. She must have been terrified, seeing both of us limping into the house, looking like we had come back from war. At the best of times a paper cut could freak her out.

Knowing she kept up a brave front for me tightened my throat. Dad nodded to me, and I knew we'd be having a talk later. He held on to Mom with one arm, and gently closed my door, his voice quiet as he led her down the hall.

I stared down at the pendant, understanding now why not one of our gossip hound neighbors so much as peeked out while I was being attacked by the Devil. This glowing piece of glass had something to do with it.

And I got a crazy idea.

I was going to take the pendant on a test run.

~ ~ ~

Alex Finch: Monster Hunter

The Monster Files Book 1

Cate Dean

Copyright, 2018, 2nd Edition.

All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except for use in any review. This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, locales, and events are either pure invention or used fictitiously, and all incidents come from the author's imagination alone.

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# About The Author

Cate Dean has been writing since she could hold a pen in her hand and put more than two words together on paper.

She grew up losing herself in the wilds of fantasy worlds, and has had some of her own adventures while tromping through the UK, and a few other parts of the world.

A lover of all things supernatural, she infuses that love into her stories, giving them a unique edge.

When she's not writing, she loves cooking, scaring herself silly in the local cemeteries, and reading pretty much anything she can get her hands on.

There - I got the official biography out of the way. I love to write, and yes, I have been doing it most of my life. I've made up stories in my head for as long as I can remember, and I am thrilled to be able to write them down and share them with you.

If you want to be the first to know when the next book is released, or be in on some fun, exclusive contests and giveaways, join my list here: <http://catedeanwrites.com/join-my-list>.

You can learn more about me and my books at my website: <http://catedeanwrites.com>

Like me on Facebook: <https://www.facebook.com/catedeanwrites>

See my visual inspirations on Instagram: <https://www.instagram.com/catedeanwrites/>

I look forward to meeting you. :)

# Don't miss out!

Click the button below and you can sign up to receive emails whenever Cate Dean publishes a new book. There's no charge and no obligation.

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Did you love _Alex Finch: Monster Hunter_? Then you should read _Truth and Consequences_ by Cate Dean!

Book 2 in the action packed YA paranormal series.Alex Finch survived her first encounter with monsters. But in the fallout, she lost Sam, and gained a vicious, clawed Devil as a stalker.Now, a random attack, a threatening note, and a surprising discovery leads Alex closer to the truth of what happened ten years ago.With the help of her new friends, she digs even deeper into Emmettsville's past, and finds out that learning the truth has consequences.Sometimes, deadly consequences.*Includes an exclusive excerpt of Welcome to The Haven, Book 3 of The Monster Files.The Monster Files:Book 1 - Alex Finch: Monster HunterBook 2 - Truth and ConsequencesBook 3 - Welcome to The HavenBook 3.5 - A Monster Files WeddingThe Monster Files Box Set (includes A Monster Files Wedding)Connected books:The Remarkable Life of Zach Wiche Continued:Book One - Once FallenBook Two - Finding GraceZach joins Alex and her friends in Book 2 of The Monster Files - Truth and Consequences. Once Fallen takes place right after the events in Book 2.The ideal reading sequence is:Alex Finch: Monster HunterTruth and ConsequencesOnce FallenWelcome to The HavenFinding GraceA Monster Files WeddingAnd if you can't get enough of Zach, he is introduced in Book 3 of The Claire Wiche Chronicles.

Read more at Cate Dean's site.
