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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.