Contents

Nancy Lake and the Case of the First DAte

Excerpt from Mind Over Monsters

Excerpt from What’s A Witch To Do?

–––––

Also by Jennifer Harlow

F.R.E.A.K.S. Series

Mind Over Monsters (2011)

To Catch a Vampire (2012)

Death Takes a Holiday (2013)

Midnight Magic Series

What’s a Witch To Do? (2013)

Werewolf Sings the Blues (2014)

Nancy Lake and the Case of the First Date

A F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad Short Story

OMG! Monster hunts are freaking so boring!

Oh wait, I forgot, they don’t want me actually hunting the monsters. No, I’m “too young” for anything fun. It’s, like, excuse me? Who here was an accomplished bank robber before she was thirteen? Who helped take down trolls on her first Op when she was fourteen? Not that schoolteacher everyone’s drooling over, that’s for sure. So she can, like, move stuff with her mind? Whoop-de-freaking-do. Bank robber totally trumps that.

I so don’t know what Oliver sees in her. She’s not even that cute. And she’s a total troublemaker. Pitted Will against Oliver just for her ego or whatever. Like Will needed to be given a bigger reason to be grumpy all the time. Seriously, what it is? Is she, like, porn-capable in bed? She let Irie die, the bitch. If I’d been in that basement, Irie would be alive right now, I totally know it.

No, not going there. It’d be mega-embarrassing if I started crying again in the middle of an Oklahoma mall—if it can even be called that. One floor, maybe two dozen shops, and not even a Starbucks. Why can’t a Pusher force people to kill and mutilate themselves somewhere less depressing and more fun? Like Vegas or Disney World? When George offered me a place in the F.R.E.A.K.S. I thought for sure I’d be like Alice in Resident Evil, running around with a gun or sword slicing zombies and vampires in exotic locations. Instead, I spend most of my time waiting in a hotel room watching TV or doing—ugh!—lab work. Maybe if I was more kick-ass, Oliver would take his eyes off Miss Mousy Crappy Hair and see I’m not a little kid, that I’m a capable, mature woman who—Oh! Comic book shop! Awesome sauce!

The place is almost deserted, like the rest of the mall. Oh, so I love this part. When I step into the store, the three dudes all glimpse up in stunned silence, like Scarlett Johansson just walked in. Not many girls frequent comic stores, so I’m a rare flower to them or whatever. Bet Miss Mousy Crappy Hair wouldn’t get the same reaction though. I pretend not to notice, instead strutting toward the counter where a boy my age sits. He clocked me like the others but fakes reading. As I get closer I see he’s kind of cute—super thin with long dark hair covering most of his face along with rimless glasses. He actually, like, blushes as he looks up.

“Um, c-can I help you?”

“Yeah. Where are your Walking Deads?”

He leaps off his stool. I follow him to the back of the cramped store. “Wh-which ones do you need?”

“The last four. I’m, like, so behind. Got kind of bored with them.”

“Af-after the Governor storyline?” the clerk asks.

“Totally! I mean, how do you top a dictator rapist who, like, collects heads in TVs?”

“A-are you watching the show?”

“Of course. It’s good, but if they don’t bring in Michonne and The Governor soon, I am gonna be totally pissed.”

“Th-They aren’t. The store had a booth at Comic-Con this year and—”

My mouth drops open. “You went to Comic-Con? I am so jealous! Did you cos-play?”

“Yeah,” the clerk says, blushing again. “I-I was Spike from Cowboy Be-Bop.”

“OMG! He is, like, my favorite character in all of Manga! Okay, you are officially one of the coolest guys I have ever met in my life,” I say, meaning it. I chuckle, but the red clerk stares at me with his light brown eyes to see if I’m serious or not. Shy boys are so adorable.

I think he realizes I’m being real and smiles. “I-I’m not. Cool.”

“Um, you went to Comic-Con as Spike, you read The Walking Dead and you work in a comic book shop! I am totally shocked you haven’t spontaneously combusted with coolness.” The clerk smiles, as do I.

OMG, I’m flirting, aren’t I? It’s been so freaking long I barely recognize it. He’s totally responding too. Blushing is a huge sign. “I’m Nancy.”

“Elephant.”

My nose scrunches up. “Really?”

“Nickname. It’s really Logan. After Wolverine. My parents are fans.”

“Then why Elephant? Because you’re tall?”

“No, um … after John Merrick. The Elephant Man? We saw the movie in middle school and people just started calling me it.”

“Yeah, people are douche bags.” I sip my soda. “Well, I’m calling you Logan. You look nothing like The Elephant Man, trust me. You—”

“Nerd Alert!” a guy shouts from the front of the store. We all turn as a dude my age and his two buddies, one a girl in a mega-short skirt, stroll in. The boys are decent-looking with the same brown hair cut short, though one is more Abercrombie model complete with the clothes and the other resembles a preppy version of The Situation. The girl hangs off Abercrombie, her blonde hair pulled back in a perfect ponytail. The It Crowd. Only joy of being home schooled is I don’t have to deal with them on a daily basis.

“Dude! Elephant! What up?”

“Hi, Finn,” Logan says, eyes like glued to the floor now. “Caitlyn. Bryce.”

The leader, Finn, throws his arm over Logan’s frail shoulders as if they’re BFFs, though the tension shows on Logan’s entire body and face. The others hang back a little, eyeing me. “How goes it, Elephant?” Finn looks at me. “Who’s this? Your girlfriend?”

“If she is there’s probably something wrong with her,” Bryce says. “Looks like a girl but probably has a dick or something.”

“Then that makes one of us,” I spit back with a dewy smile. After years of being around homicidal vampires and zombies, standing up to a jock is nothing. Especially when he lives, like, on the opposite side of the state from me. I’ll probably never see this douche again. The others chuckle, but Bryce shoots me the evil eye, which I fire back.

“I like her,” Finn says. “You should invite her to my party, Elephant.” Finn’s attention returns to me. “Having a get together tonight. You should come.”

Logan stares down at the carpet, now almost purple from embarrassment. I bet if he could become invisible or teleport out of this store right now, he totally would. I so know the feeling. At least I have one of those options. Poor dude.

But I’m in the saving-people game: time to suit up. I reach over and take Logan’s hand. His gaze jerks up in surprise. “Logan already invited me. We have plans, but we’ll totally try to make it. If we’re not, you know, too busy,” I say with a smile.

Logan’s mouth drops open. The others are equally surprised, staring at me as if I’d just flown around the store like Tinker Bell.

Finn is the first to recover. “You have to come. My brother’s getting us alcohol and other party favors. It’s gonna be a hell of a time. Legendary.”

“We’ll try,” I say.

The threesome exchanges a nervous glance before Finn releases Logan. “Awesome. See you both tonight. Guys?” He nods toward the door for his friends to follow him out. Like good dogs, they do.

Logan pulls his hand away when they’re out of sight. “Y-You didn’t have to do that.”

“What? Lie? It wasn’t difficult,” I say with a nervous smile. I totally feel my cheeks warming in a blush. Shoot! We match now. “Anyway, you want to go? It is, like, Friday night.”

“You d-don’t have plans already?”

“I’m not from here. My family’s here on business,” I say, giving the standard lie. “I was just gonna watch TV like a total loser. Party sounds more fun. Don’t get invited to many.”

“Me either. So d-do you wa-wanna go? With me or whatever?”

“Okay,” I say without hesitation. I giggle, then he giggles.

“Um, I don’t get off work until nine.”

“Okay. I’m staying at the Hampton Inn on Route 734.” I pull out a pen from my purse. “Here’s my cell number,” I say, scribbling it on his hand. “Say, nine thirty?”

“Great! I’ll call you when I’m in front.”

“Awesome! Okay … see you then!” I grin before rushing out of the store.

OMG! OMG! I have a date! I have a date with a cute boy and was invited to a party by the cool kids! They’re kind of jerks but a party is a party.

I love monster hunts.

–––––

To my not-so-great shock, everyone except Andrew is out fighting evil or whatever. Most of the time I hate being left behind almost as much as I hate looking at bio-material under a microscope for hours. Not tonight. Tonight I put on my new outfit—black mini-skirt, neon pink tights, off the shoulder pink and black striped shirt, and jewelry—curl my hair, and apply make-up FOR MY DATE! I am going on a date. My first ever. Seventeen and never been on a date. Never even been kissed. How totally sad is that?

Irie always told me that I should wait for someone who made my stomach wiggle every time I laid eyes on him. I’ve felt that way about someone before. Still do. Ever since Oliver tweaked my nose when I met him four years ago, the wiggles began. Like, four years and it’s never wavered. That’s got to be love, right? I just need to be like Peeta. His love for Katniss kept them both alive and *SPOILER ALERT* he got her in the end. And for, like, a long time I thought this would work for me. I have less than a year before I turn eighteen, then there’d be nothing in our way. Until Miss Crappy Mousey Hair. We used to play video games, now he plays them with her. We used to go to movies, now he takes her. I lost both him and Irie because of her. Oh, she tries to make up for it, inviting me when they go out. Buying me things “just because it screamed you.” Guilty conscious much, Miss Alexander?

My cell phone chirps, totally bringing a smile to my face. A text: Dwnstrs. Well if Oliver can do it, so can I. I grab my phone and purse before walking out of the room I’m currently sharing with Miss Crappy Mousey Hair herself. I considered leaving a note but it’s not like anyone really cares. They won’t even notice I’m gone. Besides, I have my cell. If they need me to, like, save the day, they can call.

When the elevator door shuts, I sigh. With that ding I am suddenly, like, totally nervous. I’m going on a date. A real, live date with a totally awesome guy. But it’s fine. If it sucks, or he gets date-rapey, I’ll just, like, port away. I can’t see Logan doing any of that, though. I can’t see him killing a spider even if it was about to bite him. After living with a vampire and grumpy werewolf, sweet and vulnerable is like a breath of cookie-scented air.

I’m still practically shaking though. I can totally face down a necromancer who raises armies of zombies, but a cute boy? No. I sigh. Now I wish Irie were here. She’d tell me I was being mental. That I’m a beautiful, funny, sweet girl any guy would be like lucky to go on a date with. Bea said the same thing once or twice too. And Oliver. But they were just being nice. Oh God, what if I say something stupid? What if he laughs at me? What if he doesn’t really like me? Ugh, this dating thing sucks already.

The elevator door opens onto the lobby, and I step out. He has to be in the ancient Nova spewing exhaust. Not exactly a horse drawn carriage, but it’ll do the job. I pull my jacket tighter and rush to the car. Logan’s face contorts into happy shock as I open the door, upping his cute factor by, like, a zillion. As does his outfit choice: gray vest and red tie over a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I was half expecting a Spiderman T-shirt.

“Hi!” I say, climbing in.

“Hi. Wow. You look … great.”

“Thanks. You too.” Thank God it’s dark or he’d totally see me blushing. Bet he’s grateful for the same reason. We giggle nervously.

“Oh, I, um,” he says, reaching into the backseat for a bag, “brought you something.”

I take the bag. Inside are the four comic books I wanted. “OMG! You are so sweet! Thank you!” I lean across and kiss his cheek.

“Yeah, well, um … you’re welcome.”

“Seriously, this is, like, the nicest thing a guy has ever done for me. Ever.”

“Oh.” He smiles nervously. “Sorry. Um … should we go?”

“Yeah.”

I put the comics back into the bag as we start moving. When I look up, my mouth drops open a little. Frak. My favorite persona and least favorite person are striding toward us from the parking lot, Bea laughing at something Oliver says. I don’t feel the butterflies as usual, instead dread fills the space. “Go,” I say. The lovebirds look straight at us, their smiles giving way to narrowed eyes. “Go now!”

Logan accelerates past my confused squad members. “Who were those people?” he asks.

“Just, um … it’s complicated.”

“Oh.”

And now I remember one of the real reasons I’ve never dated. How the Hell-o Kitty do I explain my life? That my parents are in prison for bank robberies I took part in? That my foster father is the head of a secret government organization that, like, fights monsters? That I fight monsters? That I can teleport? OMG, what have I gotten myself into?

–––––

We ride in silence for a minute or two as Mumford & Sons plays on the radio. They’re one of my favorite bands, which makes this totally worse. I keep liking this guy more and more. When he realizes I’m an actual freak, it’ll hurt. Like, a lot. I mean, I knows he’s into comic books and stuff but there is a difference between reading about people with powers and kissing one. Irie told me a horror story about the one man she ever told about her gift. They dated for, like, months, and when she finally gave him a demo, he went postal. Called her all sorts of names. It traumatized her so much she didn’t date anyone for over a year until Agent Wolfe finally put the moves on her. At least she died in love.

Logan keeps stealing nervous glances at me. “Are-are you okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.”

“W-we don’t have to go to this party. If you don’t wanna.”

“No, I do. I do. I’m just kind of nervous. I’ve just never been to this kind of party before.”

“Me neither. I-I was actually kind of shocked Finn asked me. I wasn’t gonna go but …” Logan glances at me again and shrugs. We ride in silence for another couple seconds. “You-you’ve never really been to a party before?”

“Really never. Why?” I ask with a nervous grin.

“I don’t know. You’re so pretty and cool. It’s just surprising.”

“Oh. Well, um, I’m homeschooled because we travel so much. I don’t hang with people my own age that much.”

And everyone in Stoker, Oklahoma, totally thinks I live in a house for the disturbed—or at least that’s the cover story, which, like, nobody believes. The mansion’s been around for almost a century. Stories of us have been passed down to Stoker residents for generations. Whenever I go into town, I see the way they look at me: sideways and kinda scared. So yeah, not invited to their sleepovers or house parties that much.

“You’re so lucky to be homeschooled. I hate school. It doesn’t offer many computer classes, everyone has known everyone since kindergarten so I’ve been a loser since then, it blows. And you get to travel? I’m so jealous.”

“Don’t be. It’s not like we go to cool places like Chicago or Los Angeles that much. I mean, hello, where are we now? I mean, no offense.”

“None taken. So, what do your parents do? Were those your parents at the hotel?”

“No. God no. They just … work with us. No, they’re in sales.” I’ve told this lie a trillion times I’ve got it down. “Tractor parts.”

“Oh.”

“I know. Totally boring. Unlike working in a comic shop.” Or battling psychics and robbing banks. I really miss that last one. I was so good at it. Change of subject time before the questions begin. “So, where’s this party anyway? How far away?”

“Um … few more minutes, I guess.”

“How close are you with this Finn guy? Why’d he invite you?”

“I-I tutored him in Algebra last year. He’s a pretty cool guy, you know, considering. I-I really don’t think this is a trick.” He pauses. “Do-do you?”

“Hope not.”

More icky silence follows. I think I just brought the mood down. Crap! I didn’t mean to. I’ve just spent years having my face shoved into the worst of man- and monster-kind. If something seems too good to be true, it usually is. And I have seen, like, way too many John Hughes movies to trust anyone with a popped collar or letterman jacket. At least neither of them was named Blaine.

I try to lighten the mood by talking about the DC Comics reboot and if Henry Cavill makes an awesome Superman or not. We drive to, like, literally the middle of nowhere. Logan makes a few wrong turns since we can’t really see the signs, but we do find the house at the end of a dirt road eventually.

Finn’s father must be the richest man in Oklahoma because we end up at a house that rivals the mansion. It’s newer, like two McMansions glued together with cobblestone exterior and lights lining the driveway, illuminating the house and the manicured bushes and trees. Someone has good taste. Still, we must have the wrong place because there are only a few cars in front, no music, and no people outside making out or puking in the bushes. Maybe we are gonna get Carrie’d.

“I think we’re early,” I say.

Logan glances over, worry breaking through his smile. “We’re not. We’re late. Finn texted nine thirty sharp. He-he did say it was an intimate get together.”

It’s still weird. I don’t like this, not at all. There’s something—

The front door opens. Framed in the light, I can see a grinning Finn. With a sigh, Logan turns off the car before I can suggest we get the Hell-o Kitty out of here. Finn saunters off the porch to greet us. I follow Logan out of the car and meet the dude halfway.

“I was getting worried,” Finn says. “I texted you.”

“I was driving. Sorry we-we’re late,” Logan mutters.

I stare at Blaine 2.0. Study him really. Nothing out of the ordinary about him, except no guy should have fuller and shinier hair than me. Totally unfair.

He notices me and flashes a brilliant smile. “That’s okay,” Finn says. “You’re both here now. Everyone’s already inside. Come on.”

Logan smiles nervously at Finn, then glances at me for confirmation. I give a tiny shrug and take the first step. Finn starts back toward the house, glancing back at us. “I never got your name, did I? I’m so rude. I’m Finn Morrissey.”

“Nancy Lake. Nice place.”

“Thanks. You don’t go to Roosevelt do you?”

“No, I’m homeschooled.”

“Cool.” He opens the front door for me. “Ladies first.”

I step inside the dim foyer. The good taste extends inside. Going from living in a ranch-style house in Ohio then moving to a mansion, you learn the difference between high end and crap. The owner of this house has shiny marble end tables that match the ivory marble floor and sweeping staircase. There are fresh flowers on every surface with every vibrant color of the rainbow represented. When I imagined a party, this isn’t what I envisioned. Besides the luxury venue, there are, like, no people. Shouldn’t people be milling around with red solo cups, making out on those steps as house music blasts? The closest thing I can detect is the Celtic music faintly playing in another room. I wanted the teenage version of Sodom and Gomorrah not, like, the London Symphony. Something about this is so not kosher.

Finn ushers us to the sitting room, which I only recognize as such from Miss Mousey Crappy Hair’s insistence we watch boring Downton Abbey. (I swear, Thomas is the only interesting guy in that whole show.) At least there are actual people in here, though just enough for, like, a dinner party or something. Caitlyn and Bryce sit on the couch with a guy and girl my age huddled in the corner dressed to party talking to each other, eyes shifting at the others. My danger antenna spikes up and spins like a bleeping satellite tapping Morse code. Pretty sure it’s saying, Get out now.

“Everyone, Elephant and Nancy have arrived,” Finn says. “You know Caitlyn and Bryce, and Elephant I think you know Chris and Tiffany from school.”

“Hey,” the boy with the greasy brown hair and face says.

“Hey,” Tiffany, the overweight girl with glasses says.

Oh snap, I think I’ve heard of these parties. Dog fights or dinner with schmucks. Assholes invite the grossest people they can find and whoever’s guest sucks the most wins. I’m around evil all the time, it’s kind of, like, my job, but this totally ranks up there on the evil scale. I glance at Logan who just smiles at the others. I don’t think they have a clue.

“Drinks, anyone?” Finn asks from the huge bar. “We’re having absinthe. Ever had it?”

“Um, yeah, no,” I say.

“You have to try it,” Finn insists.

Before I can answer, I hear a female laugh in the next room. Not like a girl, more of a woman, followed by the low murmur of a man’s voice, but I can’t make out the words.

“My parents,” Finn says as if reading my mind. “They’ll leave us alone.”

“So, we’re, like, it?” I ask. “Are we going to play board games or something?”

Our three hosts exchange glances. “Actually, “Finn says, “we thought we’d try another type of game.”

“Ever been to a séance?” Caitlyn asks with a smirk.

Oh, hell. The others perk up at that last word. At least I’m not going home with “ugliest face” award or whatever. No, I get to play Medium. These things have two ways of going. Nothing happens, which is the most likely, or these morons open a portal, let some evil being slip in to raise hell, and then the F.R.E.A.K.S. will have to come in to save them, and I’ll get a lecture. Will so loves his lectures.

Now I can’t leave. Crap. I can tell by their goofy smiles the others are excited. People sure do love the occult. I probably would too if I didn’t live with it, like, every day. I know from personal experience vampires aren’t sparkly (and are way hotter than R-Pats), werewolves are totally emo, and most ghosts do nothing but complain and demand things like “contact this person” and “find my will.” Lame.

“You really know how to contact the dead?” I ask.

“I found this great book,” Caitlyn says.

Finn strolls over with two glasses filled with green liquid. Never had absinthe. I take a sip. Ugh, nasty. Logan tries it too with the same reaction.

“I know the taste’s weird but we need it to open consciousness or something according to the book,” Bryce says from the couch. “Just one will do.”

I need a clear head. I learned from a master how to pretend to drink. Maybe Oliver gave Logan lessons too because I see him playacting as well. The other two guests have almost finished theirs.

“So, should we get started or …” I shrug.

“No, we have to wait until exactly ten forty-seven, when the moon and stars are in perfect alignment or something,” Caitlyn instructs.

Finn sits beside his friends on the couch, wrapping his arm over Caitlyn’s shoulders. “You two should relax.” He pulls out a joint from his pocket. “This could help.”

Like me, Logan visibly tenses and we exchange a look. I live with a house full of federal agents, one of whom has super-smell. Will specifically told me if he ever smelled pot or cigarettes on my breath, he’d burn my comic collection. And ever since Miss Mousey Crappy Hair got her hooks into Oliver, Will’s about a hair’s breadth from going nuclear at all times. Now is so not the time to test that threat.

“No thanks,” I say.

“Yeah, I-I-I’m driving,” Logan says.

“Party poopers,” Bryce says.

“Come on, don’t be an afterschool special, Bryce,” Finn chuckles. He lights the joint. “No pressure here.” He inhales then passes it to Caitlyn. “But seriously, you two look ready to run away. Sit down.”

Tiffany’s eyes begin to droop a little. Guess someone can’t hold her hallucinogenic alcohol. “Are you okay?” I ask her.

Caitlyn rises. “Someone needs the powder room.” The blonde hustles over to Tiffany, whose eyes shut even farther. “Come on, Tiff. Let’s freshen up. Excuse us.”

Caitlyn escorts the wobbly girl out of the room. I’m now alone in a room with like four dudes, and instead of feeling darn lucky, I just want to go. There is something in the air I don’t like, and I’m not talking about the drugs. These people are just too … friendly.

“Why us?” I ask.

“What?” Finn asks.

“Why’d you ask us? Why not your, like, real friends?”

“Because they weren’t interested,” Finn says without missing a beat. “Knew you all were into the freaky, paranormal stuff. Was I wrong?”

Seems plausible. Still, I’ve technically been a federal agent for three years now and worked on dozens of cases. There’s something about Finn’s pleasant smile and Bryce’s tinge of like annoyance and boredom that bothers me. They should be having fun, not going through the motions. Finn takes another toke then holds it out to Chris, who smiles nervously before walking over to get the joint. He stumbles on his last step. How much did he drink before we got here? Doesn’t stop him from smoking the whacky tobaccy too. I’m kind of glad some of them are, like, totally whacked out of their gourds. Less likely we’ll be facing an Exorcist scenario during and after the séance. It does happen, you know.

Chris plops himself down next to Finn, eyes fluttering as he inhales again.

“You should, uh, go easy there, Chris,” my date pipes up.

“He’s just having fun, man,” Bryce says. “You should try it.”

Okay, screw this. You know what? These morons are so on their own. I hope the séance works and a demon soul rapes them and they end up spewing pea soup all over this ritzy furniture. We’re so leaving.

But first I really have to pee. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Down the hall, second door on the left,” Finn answers.

“I, uh, need to go too,” Logan says.

“So that’s what you’re into,” Bryce chuckles. “I knew you were a freak, but I had you pegged as a furry not a golden showers man.”

I have the strongest urge to throw my glass at his head, but before I get the chance, Finn says, “Just shut up, Bryce. Stop being such a dick.”

“Come on, Logan,” I say, tugging on his sleeve. His head remains tilted like a sad puppy, much like Chris’s, though for different reasons, as I lead him out of the room. We set our full glasses down on an end table in the hall. “Let’s go.”

“Yeah. I-I’m sorry I brought you here.”

“No, I wanted to come. Maybe we can still catch a movie or something. I really do have to pee, though. You should go in and tell them I want to go. Blame me, say … I have cramps or something, I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

“Let me just …” I point down the hall to the bathroom. Logan nods before returning to the sitting room to make our excuses. I really hope they don’t make his life even hellier at school because we’re ditching the party. I…

Huh. I stop halfway to the bathroom to admire the wooden statue of a satyr with long curved horns underneath a vibrant oil painting of um … eww. An orgy. A group of naked men and women are screwing in the forest, and not only with each other. Satyrs, horses … one guy even seems to be humping a tree. The really disturbing part is they’re, like, oblivious to the blood covering their naked bodies from the woman on the altar with her guts spilling out. Double eww. I keep walking.

I’m surprised to find the bathroom door open. No girls in sight. Must be upstairs. After peeing and washing my hands, I smooth my hair and re-apply my lipstick. So much for my first party. Assholes, disgusting drinks, trying to talk to the dead. Whatever happened to raves? I guess the movies are more my speed anyway. I must have the tamest wild side of any teenager in the history of like ever. Good thing Logan—

The sound of shattering glass and a thump somewhere in the house startles me. I listen for a minute, but there’s no repeat. Whatever. When I step into the hall, I hear a woman’s laughter then a man’s behind the closed sliding door across from me. Finn’s parents must have friends over.

“What about the other girl?” a man in that room asks.

“In the bathroom,” I think Finn says.

“She going to be a problem like this one was?” another man asks.

“Yeah, she didn’t touch the drink,” Finn answers.

“Then go get—”

Oh crap-a-doodle-doo. I don’t wait for the last word. I rush down the hall to the sitting room. Gone. The room’s empty. No Logan. Now I feel the panic. Like, total, hobbling panic I haven’t felt since that night in Colorado with the zombies closing in and Irie blowing her stack, literally almost killing us as we huddled in a crypt held together only by Bea’s sheer force of will. For the first time in months I actually wish she was here. Or at least her machete Bette.

I need to find Logan. I need to find the others too, though that’s more of like a supplemental mission. I mean, anyone who watches TV knows never to drink something at a party you haven’t made yourself. If I don’t find them it may be Darwinism at work. Plus I don’t want to kiss any of the others, just Logan. Is that wrong? I … okay, stop. When things get bad I always do this, go off on like tangents to avoid the problem. But what the hell is the problem? I don’t—

Behind me, I hear the door slide open in the hall and I spin that way. Finn steps out, that fake smile forming on his cute face. “Oh. Hi. I was just coming—”

“Where are the others?” I snap.

“In here with us. My parents set up some food. Are you okay?” he asks almost sounding convincing with his concern.

“Send Logan out. I want to go.”

“Come on, don’t be like that,” he says, walking toward me.

I slowly get into the defensive pose Will taught me for frontal assault, moving my right leg back and putting my weight there. I may not be strong, but I am wily. And I can always port away. He—

Ouch!

A fierce, violent pain slithers through the back of my head followed by darkness descending like a curtain until it’s all there is.

Oh … frak.

–––––

Concussions suck balls. How does Bea do this all the time?

My eyes weigh, like, a trillion pounds so opening them is really hard. I wake in a musky, grody, dark room filled with wine bottles and three other teens, one of whom I’m laying on. Not Tiffany or Chris, who remain in la-la land on the floor. Tiffany’s white face twitches as she attempts to fight her way out of the darkness.

“Nancy?” Logan asks.

The legs my head’s on shift. I manage to sit up, though I feel like little slivers of glass are burrowing deeper into my brain. Logan helps me upright to lean against the wooden rack behind us. His head has a bump the size of like an egg, which has cracked and leaks blood.

“Are you okay?” he asks me.

“Are you? You’re bleeding.”

“So are you.”

I touch the back of my head. Sticky blood mats the hair that I spent like an hour fixing. “Dicks! How long have we been down here?”

“An hour according to my watch.”

“What the frak is going on?”

“I-I-I don’t know. I went back to tell them we were leaving, they looked at each other, then the next thing I know Finn punches me in the stomach and Bryce hits me with a statue. I woke up down here ten minutes ago.”

“Well, whatever they want us for, it ain’t good. We have to get out of here.”

“How? The door’s locked. Strong too. Think it’s made of oak. I checked, they took our cell phones. There are no windows. I don’t know what else we can do.”

I do. I just don’t want to. Besides the fact that I don’t know how many bad guys are out there or their weapons situation, I’m gonna have to use my gift in front of the boy I like. I wanted to put off him knowing I’m a real freak at least until … well, until never. It’s not like we were going to see a whole lot of each other after this week anyway.

And hell, porting may not even work. Bea’s gift doesn’t when she gets a concussion; Irie’s didn’t either. I need to be able to focus. I don’t want to port and, like, end up in the wall. It’d kill me. Of course so will the people who kidnapped and assaulted me probably. But I need to get these people out of here. Even if they later chase me with pitchforks and torches, I’m an officer of the law. Sort of. Not officially or anything. God, I so don’t want to leave this room. Maybe we can just drink a shit ton of wine so we won’t care when these people, like, rape and mutilate us.

This is why I never come up with the battle plans. The world would be like overrun with monsters if I did.

“I know how to get out of here,” I say before I lose my nerve.

“You do?”

“I was … um … I kind of lied to you. Like a lot. Um, I’m actually not in town with my family to sell tractor parts. They’re not even really my family, I just sort of, like, live and work with them. We’re … we fight monsters. Like zombies, werewolves, vampires—more you’ve never heard of. I’m with them because I used to rob banks and because I can teleport. Like Nightcrawler. Don’t hate me.”

Logan stares at me, mouth agape. “They really hit you hard, huh? Oh God, we need to get you to a hospital.”

“I’m not …” I groan in frustration. “I’ll show you.” Using the wooden slats of the rack, I manage to stand. Shitballs. A wave of nausea rides in like a fraking tsunami. Before I can stop myself I’m heaving beside Logan. He leaps up and holds my hair as I vomit again, this time all over the expensive wine bottles. Serves the bastards right. “Oh, God.”

“You need to sit down.”

“No! I have to get us out of here. They could come and get us at any second.” Wow, the vomiting actually helped. My head’s a little clearer after the spots fade. I can do this. I stumble across the room, almost tripping over Chris, toward the door with Logan following behind. “I’m gonna port to the other side of the door, make sure the coast is clear, call my people, then I’ll come back for you. While I’m gone you need to get the others up and mobile. We’re gonna have to, like, sneak out. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, but this is—”

“And please don’t think any less of me. I may be a freak of nature but I’m not a monster. I swear.” I close my eyes.

“Nancy—”

I wish I could describe what teleporting feels like, but I can’t because it doesn’t feel like anything. There’s like no electrical charge, no pull in my stomach. I just close my eyes, visualize a destination, then I open my eyes and I’m there. The only physical sensation occurs if I go too far. I get a headache. A hundred yards, that’s about as far as I can go with accuracy and without exploding my brain. Even with the concussion I have no problem winding up exactly where I wanted to go. Close my eyes in a wine cellar, open them in a hallway staring at the other side of the door. Easy as pie—which, PS, is a stupid saying because I tried to make a pie once and it was so not easy.

“Logan?” I whisper.

“Nancy?” he asks back. “Oh my God, you did it! That was so weird, I—”

“I know. Look, I’m gonna unlock the door but don’t come out until I come back. Wake them up, but if anyone but me comes first, play dead, then hit them with a wine bottle and run. Don’t wait for us, don’t stop until you reach the highway. Get help.”

“That’s what you should do,” he counters.

“No, I can get around without being seen. Just get the other two up and wait for me. Be right back.” I undo the padlock before hustling up the wooden stairs. The hallway’s empty when I peek out. I do hear voices down the way I need to go. I’ll port—

Frak. The door opens and I barely have time to close the basement door.

“ … midnight as usual,” a man says. “The robes are upstairs. Leanne had them dry-cleaned.”

“And we’re sure they’re all virgins?” the other man asks.

Exsqueeze me? Virgins?

“The kids know all but the black-haired girl. They’re positive. Besides, you saw them,” the first man chuckles.

Dick! Their footsteps fade as I think they go upstairs. What the hell are these people? Vampires? Fairies? Black witches? They’re the only creatures off the top of my head with a thing for virgins. Either way, I can’t take them alone. I wait a few seconds before opening the door again. No one in either direction. I port to the end of the hall, check the surroundings, then spot a phone on a table. Jackpot. Another port and I’m there. I grab the phone, and clutching it tight to my chest, I port again to the front door. Then outside. Easy buying a pie.

The phone probably has to be close to the receiver to work, so I have to stay near the door, squatting in the bushes. With a trembling finger, I dial the first number that comes to mind. “Special Agent William Price.”

“Will?” I whisper. “Oh, thank God. I’m in trouble.”

“Nancy? Where are you? What’s going on?”

“I, uh, kind of snuck out with this boy Logan, and we, um, well, we kind got kidnapped or whatever. They’re talking about sacrificing virgins. They may be vampires or witches, I don’t—”

“Wait, what? You’ve been kidnapped?”

“Well, I snuck out but the others are still in there. The address is, um … crap, I don’t know. The family’s last name is Morrissey. You can trace this number, right? It’s their landline.”

“Yeah. We’ll get on it now,” he says, I think scribbling something down. “Can you get away? Is there a car or—”

“I’m not leaving the others, Will. Look, this place is, like, ten minutes from the hotel if you don’t get lost. I know we passed a sign that had an 80 on it. I’m gonna try to sneak them out.”

“Nancy, no. Just wait for us to get there. Hang up, call 911, get in a car, and drive away.”

It is an idea. I really don’t owe those people a thing. The other boy and girl were the idiots who drank roofies, and Logan’s the one who brought me here to be sacrificed with the other virgins. As if being one isn’t embarrassing enough, now I could die because of it? Why couldn’t I be a big ho like Miss Mousey Crappy Hair? But for all her crappiness she wouldn’t leave innocent people behind. I will be just as good, if not better than her. I can save them all. Even she doesn’t have that record.

“I’ll call 911. Just get here please.” I hang up and do as promised, dialing 911 and giving the gist of the situation. The dispatcher begins asking questions, but I just tell her I have to go and leave the phone on in the bushes so they can trace it too. So help is coming and there are seven cars I can use to get us away. Awesome. I close my eyes, imagine that wine cellar, and when I open them, I’m there again. Tiffany yelps and stumbles back against the bottles. Her head and clothes are covered in wine. Got her awake I guess. Logan’s back is to me, tipping another bottle over the still unconscious Chris. As the purple liquid hits his face, Chris groans.

“Did-did you just … ” Tiffany asks.

“Yeah,” I say quickly. I move over to Logan. “I called my family, but we still need to get out of here. They want to sacrifice us or something.”

“Sacrifice us? Why?”

“Because they’re, like, crazy and evil. Who cares? We’ll find out at their trials.” I glance down at Chris. “He won’t wake up?”

“No. I-I-I don’t know what else—”

I give Chris a hard slap, and his eyes fly open with a gasp. My hand stings but it gets the job done. “What … what … ”

“You were drugged. We need to get out of here. I called the police, but who knows—”

“Wait,” Logan cuts in, “you called the local police?”

“Of course. Why?”

“Because Finn’s mother is the mayor and Bryce’s father is the chief of police!”

Oh, frak.

–––––

“We need to get out of here right now!” I say. “Help him up.”

I quickly move over to the wide-eyed Tiffany, who moves even farther against the wine rack as I approach. She’s scared of me. “Can you walk on your own?”

“How-how did you do that?”

Are we still on this? “Magic. Now answer my question. Can you walk?”

“Yes. I-I think so.”

“You need to be quiet and quick. Listen to me, move when I do, and I’ll get out of here.”

“What-what are you?”

“I’m the freak whose going to save your life. Now move.”

Logan has Chris up and supports him around the waist and shoulders. I grab a wine bottle from the rack in case there’s trouble. “We’re going up the stairs then turning left down the hall, then another left. We’re going for your car.”

“I don’t have the keys,” Logan says.

“I have a spare under the wheel of mine,” Tiffany says. “It’s the Prius.”

“Prius it is. Let’s get the frak out of here.”

I’m first to the door with my virgin entourage behind. Quick and quiet. Wine bottle raised, I throw open the door. No one. Yet. I rush up but the others lag four steps behind. Gives me time to check my corners as Will always reminds me to do. Nothing to the left, nothing to the right. I step into the hallway again and signal the others up. So far so goo—

“You.”

Just as Logan takes the final step up, that man’s voice stops us all dead. We spin around to find two middle-aged men down the hall dressed in green robes with more Celtic and mystical symbols embroidered on them. Just looking at them I can tell they’re not vampires. After living with one and chasing the murderous kind, I can spot them, like, a mile away. These guys are too tan and wrinkly and resemble Finn and Caitlyn too much. And I’ve never seen a fairy before, but the few pictures the F.R.E.A.K.S. have on file show they’re even hotter than vampires, so no to that. Which means these jagweeds are just garden-variety psycho humans or black witches. Please let it be the former.

I raise the wine bottle. “Logan, run,” I order. “Run!”

The others move to the left as I go right, putting myself between them and the men. The moment the others dart away, the men lunge with only me to stop them. Two grown men, each with almost a hundred pounds on me and only a wine bottle to defend myself. So not good. I shut my eyes for a millisecond and when I open them again, the men’s backs are to me. They stop dead and gasp. Most do when I vanish before their eyes.

I use the confusion. As hard as I can, I bring the wine bottle down on Finn’s father’s head like it was the hammer of Thor. He screams in pain and surprise. Caitlyn’s father spins around to see what just happened. Without hesitation, I whack his nose. There’s a sickening crack as blood explodes from both nostrils. Then, just to be sure, I whack Mr. Morrissey across the face too. The bottle finally shatters in my hand. Morrissey screams even louder as the jagged glass leaves rivulets of blood in its wake. They’ve had enough. I shut my eyes and port to the front door.

Logan and Chris step out of the door when I open my eyes, and Tiffany is already halfway to her car. I rush over to Logan and lift Chris onto my shoulder too. Logan smiles in appreciation. Tiffany has the key in hand when we reach the car. She—

BANG!

I’d recognize that sound anywhere. Hear it more than a Justin Bieber song. We twirl around to find Finn in the doorframe pointing a gun at us. Frak. Tiffany lets out a little shriek behind us, and Logan’s eyes double in size. Caitlyn and Bryce step out too, Bryce also with a gun and all dressed in those robes.

“Get away from that car,” Finn orders.

“I’ve called my family. My father’s an FBI agent, he’s on his way. Don’t make this any worse than it already is. Just let us leave.”

The teens all exchange glances. “What if she’s telling the truth?” Caitlyn asks.

“Shoot her!” a man says from inside the house. The bleeding adults join their offspring. “She’s a witch or something,” Mr. Morrissey says, putting pressure on his bleeding wounds. “Shoot her, son. We don’t need her. We only need three for the ceremony.”

“No!” Logan shouts. He steps in front of me to shield me. “Don’t hurt her.”

“Shut up, Elephant,” Bryce snaps.

“Get out of the way, boy,” Mr. Morrissey orders.

“Dad, just let me shoot him,” Finn says.

“No, we need him alive at least until the end of the ceremony,” Caitlyn’s father says.

“Who are you people?” Logan asks. “What do you want with us?”

“You’re going to contribute to this town, son. Your lives will pave the way for the prosperity of this town for at least the next year. There’s a reason Rohan is considered the best town in Oklahoma for jobs and agriculture. Cernunnos requires a sacrifice, a tribute. Your deaths are a necessary evil, but they are necessary.”

“The town?” Tiffany says. “You’re the one with the mansion. You don’t care about the town, you only care about yourselves. This is all about money!”

“Our families have always put that money back into the community,” Caitlyn’s father instructs.

Bad guys and their justifications. They all have them, and they’re bullshit. It always comes down to ego, revenge, or money. Selfishness, really. Assholes. I so need to get out of here. He’s right, they don’t need me alive. They only need three sacrifices, one for each family—Bryce’s, Caitlyn’s, and Finn’s. I just need to buy time until Will comes.

Okay, so my first plan totally failed, I need another. They’ll be fine until the team arrives. I close my eyes, visualize, and when I open them I’m staring at the wine cellar door. There’s a commotion I think by the front door, no doubt because of my departure. There are shouts, screams, cries, then footsteps tromping this way. I quickly move to a nearby closet. There isn’t anything I can do. I peek out, watching as the others are pushed back downstairs with little fight. Bryce and Finn stand guard in case of escape again. Guess the others are out looking for me. I shut the door.

“Well, can’t we speed things up?” a woman’s voice asks. “What if she was telling the truth? About the FBI? I mean, what the hell is she? What if Cernunnos sent her because he’s displeased with us? What if she’s a god too?”

Yeah, Nancy Lake the Goddess. I so wish. A goddess wouldn’t be cowering in a closet.

“She’s just a freak. But we do need to get this over with,” Mr. Morrissey says. “It’s close enough to the time. Cernunnos will forgive us. Boys, prepare them. Fast.”

“Yes, Dad,” Finn says.

Frak. Oh Will, please, please, please get here.

The two guards walk downstairs, judging from the footsteps. Nine people, and I have no weapon. God I hate this. I so hate being helpless. I have to stand by and listen to the muffled shouts downstairs. They’re putting up a fight. Good. Of course it’s all for nothing. A minute or so later there are more footsteps, up this time.

“Keep moving or we’ll rape you all before we kill you,” Bryce says.

“It won’t be painful. We’ll knock you out right before, unless you struggle,” Finn adds.

What idiots. Pretty sure that would nullify the virgin part of the virgin sacrifice.

From the basement I can hear them move the prisoners to the back of the house, probably where the altar or Wicker Man or whatever is set up. Out of time, Will. Up to me now. No rescue but mine. I’m all alone in this. I’m needed.

“Let’s do this.”

I port to the front lawn, retrieve Tiffany’s key from the ground, and slip into her Prius. I start the car, put it into gear, and pedal to the fraking metal around the side of the house.

Holy. Shitballs. There’s something you don’t see every day, even in the F.R.E.A.K.S.

The bonfire must be a story tall and flaming a story higher. Three tables are set up nearby, I guess as makeshift altars because at least two half-naked people are already tied to them. Flash count: nine bad guys in groups of three clustered around an altar spaced a few feet apart. Looks like two parents and one evil teen per table. Two of the dads barely have time to reach into their robes, I presume for their guns, before I plow toward them. Car smashes gun.

They jump out of my way, including a shirtless Logan. I punch the brake, skid to a stop, then press the gas while spinning the wheel to continue my rampage. Grand Theft Auto so wasn’t a waste of time. Caitlyn and her parents have started back toward the house, but the six remaining morons who want to face down a car get to do just that. Bryce points his gun at me, but I clip his hip before he can get a shot off. Hope I broke something.

I spin around again and zoom for another target. Logan is untying Tiffany as Bryce’s father tends to his prostrate son. Need a target. Need—

There’s a loud boom, and before I realize like what made it, the car begins skidding. I lose all control a millisecond after another other shot. I can’t brake well. I scream as I crash into a tree doing twenty. The seatbelt crushes my chest but saves my bacon. I barely notice that pain because my forehead thumps against the steering wheel then back onto the headrest. The world blurs, and the nausea immediately returns. The pain. It’s overwhelming. I barely notice the door opening, my seatbelt unbuckling, my arm being yanked out of the car.

My whole body, including my head, thwack against the ground and the darkness almost overtakes me. Kind of wish it had, because when the fog clears I realize Finn looms over me, gun trained right on my nose. Be it the concussions or shock, I’m literally paralyzed with fear staring down the barrel of that gun.

No. No. This is so unfair. I don’t want to die. I’ve never even been kissed. How can I die without being kissed? I squeeze my eyes shut tight.

“Cernunnos, take this sacrifice in thy name to bring prosperity and favor to me and—”

A gunshot. I wait for the pain but receive none. My eyes fly open. Finn looks up as another rings out. This time a burst of blood spurts from Finn’s shoulder. He howls in pain, dropping the gun beside me. I have enough brains left to grab it as he clutches his damaged shoulder.

“Nancy!”

Logan runs to me, training the pistol on Finn. “Move and I blow your brains out.” He bends down beside me, offering me his free hand. “Are you okay?”

I take it. “Yeah,” I say as I rise, moving my gun toward Finn too. “Thanks.”

“Oh, shit!” Caitlyn screams.

I glance back to see a familiar SUV with a flashing light on the dash zoom our way as I had a minute before. Then another. About time.

The evildoers who are still upright sprint toward the house as Tiffany helps Chris off the altar. My date and I watch as my family piles out of their SUVs, chasing after the wayward killers. Wolfe tackles Bryce’s father while Chandler keeps his gun on the son.

I do love them sometimes.

I turn back to Finn and smirk. “You picked the wrong damn virgins to sacrifice, buddy.”

–––––

“Are you sure you’re okay? Are you sure?”

“I’m fine, Bea. Just a headache.”

“Oh, you scared us so much. So much,” she says, hugging me for the trillionth time. I keep meaning to push her away but I kind of like how it feels. I’ll start hating her again tomorrow.

“Yes, do not ever, ever leave without telling us where you are going,” Oliver chides.

“Yeah, you are grounded. For a month,” Bea adds before kissing my head. “A month.”

I’d totally pitch a fit—I did save, like, three lives and all—but I’m distracted by Dr. Neill leading Logan toward the SUV I’m sitting in. My poor date still has blood smeared on his chest from the sigil they painted on him and a blanket over his bony shoulders. Still totally cute though. Oliver glares at him with disapproval, even folding his arms across his chest.

“This one needs to go to the hospital too,” Dr. Neill says. “His parents are meeting us there.”

“And you are?” Oliver asks.

“Lo-Logan Marshall, sir. Nancy’s … date.”

“Oh, you are, are you? So you are the one who dragged our Nancy into this mess.”

“Oh, Oliver, stop,” Bea says. “Ignore him, Logan. He’s a grump tonight. Climb in, we’re just about to leave.”

“Th-thank you, ma’am.”

I scoot over and Logan, after glancing at the scowling Oliver, gets in.

“I am watching you, boy.” Oliver slams the door shut.

And we’re alone. Logan stares down at his hands as I steal glances at him. “Sorry about him. He’s … old fashioned.”

“I deserve it.”

“No, you don’t. You saved my life tonight. You shot someone for me. You were awesome.”

“So were you,” he says.

We both sit in silence for a second as I shore up my nerve to lean across and kiss him. At first I think he’s so shocked his lips don’t move, but when they do I start to glow inside like the bonfire still raging outside. The whole night was so worth that kiss. We break apart after a few seconds, both smiling and blushing.

“That was my first kiss,” Logan says.

“Mine too.”

“Does this mean you want to go on a second date?” he asks.

“Hell yeah. But next time … ” I lean in and kiss him again. It’s even better than the first one. I lean back. “Next time, let’s do something less dangerous. Like bungee jumping.”

––––

Read on for an excerpt from Mind Over Monsters and What’s A Witch To Do?