The Monster Part 3

PART THREE

~*~

In a Darkened Cove

Robyn hurried toward Frankie, a hand flailing in the air, mouthing the words, “What happened?”

But Vivi, who was about a foot taller than Thing #1, made it to Frankie first. “It’s all over school. Gage hit your guy.”

“In the face,” Robyn added, panting slightly when she caught up.

“Yes,” Frankie said from between clenched teeth, trying to ignore all the gawking. “Gage sucker punched him.”

Robyn wrapped a hand around Frankie’s arm and pulled her to the side of the swarm, allowing the other students, mostly underclassmen, to pass. When they were semi-isolated in a cove that sat between Mr. Donnelly’s classroom and the lockers, Robyn asked, “What the actual fuck just fucking happened?”

Frankie drew in a deep breath, hoping it would calm her, and said as softly as she could, “I’ll tell you later.”

“Fuck that.” Robyn said the words, but Vivi agreed with an expression of horror at the prospect of having to wait for an explanation.

Robyn poked Frankie in the chest. Softly, but she still made her point. “As a card-carrying member of the Thingeteers, we have a constitutional right to know everything.”

“Everything,” Vivi added slowly, doing her best to intimidate.

Frankie swallowed back a giggle. “I promise. I’ll tell you everything. Right now we have to get to class. But I do need something.”

“A wedgie?” Robyn asked, the threat crystal clear.

Frankie had to fight another giggle. Robyn was too short to be a real threat. For a wedgie, anyway. In all other areas, girl had skill. Frankie once saw her take on an entire troop of Girl Scouts, which earned her the awesome nickname she had growing up: The Badger. She was not to be trifled with. She was like those Chihuahuas that challenge any dog daring to cross their paths, size be damned.

Frankie patted Thing #1 on the head. “I totally promise. Everything. But does your cousin still do background checks?”

Vivi’s face brightened at the mention of Robyn’s cousin who worked at the DMV. She’d had a crush on her since fifth grade when Robyn had a pool party for her birthday. Apparently, Marigold McCaffrey in a bathing suit was almost more than Vivi’s fragile little heart could take. And it was currently torn between a male chess nerd and the female cousin of one of her best friends. Vivi’s tastes were nothing if not eclectic.

“We should go to talk to her,” she said. “In person. You know, face-to-face.”

“Which is exactly what in person means,” Robyn said, teasing her. “And I could ask her, but it’ll cost us.”

Frankie nodded, expecting as much. “I have a couple hundred, but I could dip into my college fund.”

“Don’t you dare,” Vivi said, appalled.

“She’s right.” Robyn brought up her phone, apparently to check her balance. “We can chip in if we have to.”

Vivi agreed, checking her phone as well.

“No way, guys. This is on me. I’ll figure something out.” She glanced back toward Mr. Keller’s office. “Just find out what she’d charge to run a check on the new kid. I want to know everything.”

“You know,” Robyn said, leaning in and softening her voice, “in some cultures—like, say, ours—that’s considered stalking.”

“Yes, and I reminded you of that when you had her run a check on the new assistant basketball coach.”

She showed her palms in surrender. “I’m not judging. I’m just saying.”

Vivi shook her head. “Me neither. But wouldn’t it be better if we just went down there to talk to her in person?”

They both grinned at their smitten friend before heading off to one class or another.

~*~

Under a Frigid Sun

Frankie had calculus, and she already had two strikes on her record for being tardy to class, so she did that race-walk thing her aunt did with her friends for exercise. The one Frankie always made fun of. Desperate times.

But before she even got to the next building, she saw him. Iggy. Indigo Maximilian Wruck.

He was walking toward the parking lot, head down, shoulders drawn, and her heart plummeted. He’d been expelled. And it was her fault. Embarrassment scorched through her. She’d practically accosted him in the hall and he was being expelled because of it.

Without another thought, she turned and headed toward him, almost crashing into a couple of stragglers just as the bell rang. She was late either way. May as well make the most of it.

“Iggy,” she said, rushing toward him like a schoolgirl racing after the hot guy she didn’t have a chance in hell of landing. She felt her cheeks warm against the crisp air with the thought, but barreled forward nonetheless.

He stopped walking right before he turned the corner of a brick building and did a half-turn, his hood hiding his face. She got the feeling he liked it that way.

“What happened with Mr. Keller?” she asked when she caught up with him, her voice airy since she’d sprinted the last few feet, worried he would realize who it was and keep walking.

He turned to face her and she fell into the ridiculous depths of his blue irises again. She shook off the insta-trance and started in.

“Did you get expelled?” Without even waiting for an answer, she clamped a hand over her eyes. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.” An epiphany hit and she smiled up at him. “I’ll go talk to him. I’ll tell him what happened. This isn’t fair. None of it was your fault. You were just acting in self-defense. And you didn’t even hurt Gage. He hit you and, no offense, I’ve seen what you’re capable of. Gage is probably the luckiest guy at school today. Mr. Keller needs to know that. You could have put him in one of those holds that makes your opponent pass out no matter how much bigger he is than you are and even if he’s wearing a scary skull mask that strikes fear in the hearts of lessor men yet it doesn’t even phase the likes of you and you could have taken him without breaking a sweat and he would have…

She knew—deep down she knew—she was sounding more and more like a gerbil on meth, but she couldn’t. Stop. Talking.

It was like her mouth had been hijacked by a runaway train and the brakes wouldn’t work, no matter how hard she pulled. Words just spilled from her mouth. It felt disturbingly familiar. Like that time she tried genu-wine moonshine and couldn’t stop the contents of her stomach from flowing out of her. Wave upon wave upon wave. It was amazing how much her stomach could hold considering the circumference of her waste.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she told herself to stop. Just stop talking. But she couldn’t. Not until Iggy crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the building, an amused grin lifting one corner of his mouth.

She finally stopped the verbal onslaught and stood panting. And she could feel it. The warmth of her cheeks against the cool air. She knew the vibrant color she turned when that happened. So, naturally, that knowledge heated her cheeks even more.

Looking for a distraction, she glanced around, scanning the buildings of the high school before focusing on him again.

“Okay,” she said, deciding to study her plaid Converse instead of looking at him a moment longer. He was just too … what? Beautiful? Fascinating? Amused? “For the record, I don’t normally talk like I’ve just downed twelve energy drinks. I just … I’m really upset.”

“I would never have guessed.”

She found his face again and tried to smile.

“I didn’t get expelled.”

“What?” She stepped closer. “Mr. K didn’t expel you? But I thought— I mean, why—?”  She pointed to the parking lot, wondering why he was leaving.

“I saw you.”

When she only furrowed her brows in confusion, he explained.

“I was hoping you would follow.”

“Oh.” That stopped her in her tracks. She thought a moment, then asked, “Why didn’t you just ask me to?”

He lowered his head, the shadow from the hood swallowing the upper half of his face. “Because I didn’t want to put you on the spot.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I knew after what your boyfriend—”

“Soon to be ex.”

“—soon to be ex-boyfriend did, you’d feel obligated. Just like you felt obligated to come apologize for him.”

A teacher walked out of the building on Frankie’s left. Before she could suggest they go somewhere less out-in-the-open, he took her arm and pulled her around the brick wall until they were out of the teacher’s line of sight.

He walked her to the entrance of the auditorium and tucked her into the corner of a cove. The walls blocked most of the wind, which had picked up and was getting colder by the second. But he blocked the rest of it, his body like a heater next to hers. Then he took her books.

The act unsteadied her. She’d never had a guy carry her books before. It was old school and charming and nice.

“Why did you hope I would follow you?”

He faced her and leaned a shoulder against the wall. “To make it easier to kidnap you and throw you into the trunk of my car.”

She laughed softly and dared him to try it with a challenging expression.

He raised a brow. The one with a scar slashed across it. The gorgeous one. “What? That’s what serial killers do.”

“Okay, so which car is yours?”

He glanced over his shoulder and gestured toward a car with nod. “That red SUV.”

She felt her lips part in a wide grin. “Well, that’s Dustin Fowler’s car. And it doesn’t even have a trunk.”

“Right.” He lifted a nonchalant shoulder. “I wasn’t finished. The white car next to the red SUV.”

“You mean Veronica Gallegos’s Mini Cooper? The one that also doesn’t have a trunk?”

“No.” He looked back again. “The other white car next to the red SUV.”

“There isn’t another white car next to the red SUV.”

“Well, you know, across from it. That one.” He gestured with a nod again.

“And that one is Brad Hollister’s Camry. But at least it has a trunk. You’re getting closer.”

He gaped at her. “What the hell? Do you know every car in the lot?”

She cracked up. “Not all of them, but enough to know you’re lying.”

He glanced down again, as though in shyness. Frankie found it more endearing every time he did it.

“So, then, you’re popular?” he asked.

The question surprised her. Not only because of the content, but because of the fact that his accent changed again, like it had the night before. One minute he spoke with a bland American accent. The next he spoke with something exotic. Something European. Something she couldn’t quite place.

“Popular? No, not terribly. I do have a lot of friends, though.”

When he looked back, she noticed how his thick lashes curved down around the outer edges of his eyes. “You don’t have to lie.”

She blinked at him in surprise.

“I already know arrogance is not your strong suit.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. She thought about it and then deflected with, “Were you popular? At your old school?”

He laughed softly and looked away. “Not exactly.”

“You don’t have to lie,” she said, using his words against him. “I already know arrogance is not, by any stretch of the imagination, your strong suit.”

When he looked back, so many emotions washed over her. Tickled her stomach. Flooded her body until her bones grew rubbery. But why? She’d never had a reaction like this before. Why now? Why with this guy other than the fact that he was gorgeous and powerful and had saved her life the night before? Her hyper-awareness of him was getting ridiculous.

“And you still don’t think I’m a serial killer?”

Relieved he changed the subject, she asked, “How many serial killers go around saving people?”

His expression darkened, as though he were overcome with sadness. “Only the ones who have a great deal to make up for.”

“Ah, so last night. That was an act of repentance?”

“Of a sort.”

Without thought, she said, “May I?”

She reached up and the movement surprised him. When she continued, he jerked back and then stiffened, but she placed her fingers on one of his scars nonetheless. The one that ran across his left cheekbone, forming a cross.

The touch alone caused a current of electricity to arc from his skin to hers. At least it felt like electricity, as silly as it sounded. Still, as she smoothed her fingertips over the scar, the skin softer than she’d expected, the current seemed to magnify. To grow stronger and more alluring. Almost painful.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice breathy.

But she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. The current was pure magic. It scampered over her skin and sent a warm flush through her body, pooling in her abdomen, swirling like a tempest waiting for just the right moment to rise up and drown her.

He bit down, his jaw muscles jumping with the action. “Please, stop,” he said from between clenched teeth. “You don’t know what I am.”

She pulled her hand back immediately, horrified that she hadn’t stopped the moment he asked. What right did she have to touch him without his permission? “I’m so sorry,” she said, sliding her brows together. “But, just for the record, I’m not scared of you.”

He dropped her books and wrapped his large hands around her arms to pull her closer. When they stood nose-to-nose, he whispered, “I am the one thing in this world you should be afraid of.”

She raised her chin and shook her head. “I don’t believe that.”

Frustration hardened his features. Without moving an inch, he stared at her, as though deciding what to do with her. Hopefully, he didn’t actually have a trunk somewhere.

Before she could say anything, before she could embarrass herself further by begging him to kiss her, the door to the auditorium opened. The drama teacher, Mr. Birdsong, leaned out and said before closing the door again, “Both of you get to class. Now.”

The interruption broke the spell. He shoved her back, albeit gently, and stalked off, pulling his hoodie down over his face. The wind rushed at her and she hugged herself, debating if she should go after him. But when she looked again, he was gone.

With a sigh, she knelt and picked up her books, figuring she’d embarrassed herself enough for one day. Just as she stood, her phone vibrated.

She took it out. The text was from Robyn on their group text. “She said she’d give you the family discount. Fifty smackaroos, baby. She’ll have it this afternoon.”

Vivi quickly responded. “That’s not bad! We should thank her. Personally.”

Frankie drew in a deep breath, wondering how on earth Iggy vanished into thin air. Then again, he could’ve just gone around the building without her seeing him. If he were really fast. Which he was.

She texted the Things back. “Coffee break?”

“Now?” Robyn asked.

“ASAP.”

“I can escape my oppressors in about five.”

“Me, too,” Vivi texted. “But give me ten, just in case.”

Frankie put her phone away, marveling at the fact that she had the best friends a Thing could ask for.

~*~

Beneath the Waters Dark and Deep

“How’s your much, so very much, better half, bro?” Jacob Keller asked.

Principal Jack Keller watched as his younger brother, the PI, waltzed in like he owned the place, carrying the last third of a breakfast burrito. Knowing what was best for him, he placed another one on Jack’s desk.

Jacob sat across the desk, and asked, “Is that what this is about? What happened to her last night?”

Jack stood and closed the door at his brother’s back, letting Delores know he didn’t want to be disturbed unless it was an emergency.

“In a way.”

“I’m in. Whoever it is, I’m in. I’m not a pansy like our elder brothers.” He waved his burrito in the air. “Whoever we gotta kill, I’m there.”

The beauty of being a PI was that Jacob didn’t have to live by any sort of dress code. Jack accepted that. Envied it, even. But today, his little brother looked more disheveled than usual, if that were possible.

“Did you get any sleep?”

“Did you?” his brother countered, refusing to be chastised.

Jack scraped his fingers through his dark brown hair, the same hair Jacob had minus the administrative haircut. Jacob wore his short on the sides and long on top. He said he was emulating his favorite soccer player, but Jack figured it had more to do with his decade-long obsession with Macklemore.

“Not especially. And, she’s fine. Shaken up, but fine. Sorry I called you so late.”

“Screw you. I would’ve been pissed if you hadn’t. Has something happened since I left you last night?”

“Definitely. And you won’t believe it.”

Jack filled his brother in on the unusual encounter his wife had had that morning with the even more unusual new student, Indigo Wruck. By the time he finished, Jacob still had a third of a burrito left, he’d been so engrossed.

“What the hell?” Jacob sank lower into the chair in thought. “You’re telling me this high school kid did all that damage?”

“That and who knows what else.”

“We gotta tell Jimmy. He’ll be pissed as hell if we don’t.”

Jimmy was the middle brother, the detective in charge of the Wraith investigation, and was not one from whom to withhold evidence. Unless life meant little to the person doing the withholding.

“I know,” Jack said. “And I will. As soon as I have more background on this kid.” He glanced at the folder Jacob brought with him. “Is that what I asked for?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, remembering he had a file. He tossed it over and finally took another bite of his burrito. “The kid is living in the old Conrad Mansion, but while the property is in his name, nothing else is. The utilities are all under a Mr. and Mrs. Reinhart.

Jack nodded as he combed through the file. “His aunt and uncle, supposedly.”

“Supposedly?”

“I don’t know, Jake. There’s just something about this kid. He’s…unusual.”

“The scars?”

Jack looked up. “You have to admit—”

“Oh, I do.” He held up a hand. “Don’t get me wrong. They’re definitely unusual. But that ain’t the half of it.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jack folded the wrapper of his burrito down and took a bite. “What else you got?”

Jacob jumped to his feet and scooted his brother to the side with a wave of his hand, preparing to take over his computer. “Can I get to my email using the shoddily censored school internet?”

“You can on my computer,” Jack said, his mouth half full.

“Sweet.” Jacob keyed in his user name and password and pulled up a video he sent to himself. “Check this out.” He pressed play then leaned back to let his brother watch the clip.

Jack squinted at the screen and then stilled. After a moment, he asked, “Is this the night Francesca Victor’s parents died?”

“That it is, brother. Now, wait for it.”

A chill spread over Jack’s skin. He was watching the actual death of two of his good friends. In the video that was clearly shot by a bystander, rain poured down onto a raging river during a flood. The sun had already set, but there was just enough light to make out general shapes and rushing water. Sirens blared in the distance and the faint colors of red and blue reflected off the river. Then someone shouted.

“It’s him! What the fuck? How did he—?”

Thunder pierced the air, drowning out the next statement, but the camera finally focused on a boy in a T-shirt struggling against the deadly currents in the water. He caught hold of a boulder and dragged himself up, but his strength was fading. He slipped and barely managed another chance, catching hold a microsecond before he went under again.

“What is that?” someone asked.

“Oh, my God, David, it’s a girl. He’s got a girl. Can you help him?”

A man came into the corner of the shot. He stumbled over the wet rocks toward the kid, blocking the view. The woman holding the camera, the lens distorted with drops of water, followed him the best she could.

She managed to get lower then the man and the boy appeared again, only this time he was dragging a little girl out of the water.

Jack covered his mouth with a hand.

The boy threw the girl onto the rocks, hoisted himself out of the water, then immediately began CPR.

“What can I do?” the man asked, but the boy kept working on the girl, oblivious.

The man kneeled beside them and kept an eye on the ever-rising water.

“We need to get higher,” he yelled through the rain. The water had risen a foot in seconds.

But the boy kept working, as though he didn’t hear him. The man turned back to the woman, not sure what to do, and motioned for her to go higher.

She did. After a few stumbles, she refocused the camera on the boy just as the girl doubled over and coughed, heaving water onto the rocks. The man and woman shouted in triumph.

The boy sat back on his heels and rubbed her back, and the man reached over and slapped the boy’s shoulder.

“Holy shit, man! Good job!”

A spotlight from an emergency vehicle lit the scene from above the embankment, and the boy, for a fraction of a second, looked up. Just as he did, Jacob paused the picture. But Jack didn’t need him to. He saw the boy clearly. Scars disfiguring a young face. Blue eyes so bright they looked inhuman. It was impossible to mistake who the boy was. Indigo Wruck.

After a few moments in which Jacob gave his brother time to absorb what he was seeing, Jack shook his head and said, “I don’t understand. That was, what? Ten years ago? Eleven? Frankie was barely seven years old.”

“Right?” Jacob said. When Jack looked at him, he put his fingertips on his head then splayed them out, mimicking his brain exploding.

“No, I mean it. She was seven and Indigo…” He looked back at the screen. “He looks exactly the same age he is now.”

“Hence the exploding brain.” Jacob was way too happy about all of it. “But there’s more.”

He reached over and restarted the video. The man stood, blocking the camera for a moment, and turned toward the emergency crew. “Down here! This guy just saved a girl from a car that went off the bridge!”

“David, be careful!” the woman shouted as the man slipped on the rocks.

But when he went down, the boy, Indigo, was gone, and Francesca Victor was looking out into the darkness, shivering and clearly in shock.

The camera fell with a loud thud and the screen went black, much like the edges of Jack’s vision.

Jacob reached over again and forwarded the video to his brother’s email.

“I’m not kidding,” Jack said to him. “What is this?”

“Dude, if I knew that and you had a million dollars, we’d both be happy.”

No, Jack thought as a wetness blurred his vision. That’s not true. He would’ve been happy if Frankie’s parents had made it out alive as well. They were good people. But if that really happened the way it seemed to, Indigo Wruck had been saving lives long before he came to Geneva High.