Where Monsters Lie: An Academy Bully Romance (The Monster Within Book 2) Read online

  Where Monsters Lie

  The Monster Within: Book II

  Eden Beck

  Where Monsters Lie by Eden Beck

  © 2019 Eden Beck

  All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of including brief passages for use in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  For permissions contact:

  [email protected]

  Ebook ASIN: B07W7H23LK

  Also by Eden Beck

  Hawthorne Holy Trinity

  Dirty Liars

  Dirty Fraud

  Dirty Revenge

  The Monster Within

  Where Monsters Hide

  Where Monsters Lie

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  A Note From The Author

  Chapter One

  They say time heals all wounds.

  Sometimes, the opposite is true. For me, after last year, this is certainly the case.

  Avery Black, Year Two, Saint Marcellus Academy for Monster Hunters. There it is—my name and information printed neatly at the top of the page in black and white. In a few days, school will start. Soon, it will be the day I walk back into the school for monster hunters with my head held high.

  After months of poring over my parents’ journals, of training with their weapons in the woods, of hunting monsters around their cabin, I’ll walk in stronger, more focused, more capable.

  But today, I have to get to the damn airport.

  I fold the entry letter up and tuck it into my back pocket before grabbing my suitcase and hurrying downstairs. It’s early. The sun hasn’t even risen yet. I try to be as quiet as I can, knowing Aunt Trish is asleep.

  I’ve tried to keep her out of my new world as much as possible. I know she’s curious, sometimes, but it’s best this way. She’s already been hurt by this world before, and the more she gets involved in it, the more inevitable that hurt becomes again.

  There’s a reason this profession is not for the faint of heart.

  I quietly wrestle my suitcase to the foot of the stairs and head into the kitchen for a snack, but I freeze. There, at the kitchen table in her robe and slippers, is Aunt Trish.

  And she’s holding a dagger.

  I stare at her, flabbergasted, but she just gazes calmly back. My eyes flick to the dagger. I realize it’s the one I used to slay a small monster last night in the woods—and its blood still stains the blade.

  “Aunt Trish?” I say carefully.

  She waves the dagger at me like it’s a toy, and not a razor-sharp weapon made for slaying creatures of the shadows. “You left this on the counter last night.”

  I blink. Different emotions flow through me in waves: relief that my aunt hasn’t suddenly gone crazy and decided to kill me, amusement that she clearly has no idea how to hold a dagger properly, embarrassment that I so carelessly left a huge knife lying around, and finally panic. I’ve been so careful, all summer, so that she wouldn’t know about my secret monster-hunting outside of school.

  So much for that, now.

  “Um,” I say eloquently.

  She wastes no time cutting to the chase. “You’ve been hunting in the woods, haven’t you?”

  I run through a few possible different answers in my head and decide that simply not replying would be the best course of action. I stare at her for a few seconds; long enough that the silence begins to feel uncomfortable.

  Aunt Trish sighs heavily and sets the dagger on the table. “Avery, you’re not supposed to be hunting yet, are you? Isn’t it illegal?”

  I didn’t know she knew that. I cock my head to the side.

  “Well…” I trail off, feeling especially well-spoken today.

  What’s the matter with me? I must have spent a little too much time hunting these last few months, and not enough time interacting with other humans.

  “You’re not in trouble. That’s not why I’m waiting for you.” She smiles that bright smile that crinkles up the corners of her eyes, and I breathe a sigh of relief as she stands up from the table. “I think I might actually coming to terms with all this.”

  “You are?” I ask incredulously. This is a hell of a time to have a serious conversation about this. I need to leave for the airport soon. Couldn’t she have brought this up at literally any other moment this summer? “You’re saying you’re really …”

  “Okay with it?” she finishes for me. “Not yet. It’s dangerous and scary, and I don’t like the thought of you … ending up like your mother.” She looks meaningfully at me, and I know what she’s saying. My parents died hunting a monster. A monster I’ve met, actually, but Aunt Trish doesn’t know about that, and I want to keep it that way.

  Aunt Trish glances down at my suitcase, and then says, “I wanted to ask you something.” I nod, and then immediately regret it as soon as the next words come out of her mouth. “Do you remember that boy who came with you last Christmas?” She gives me a knowing smile. “Am I going to be seeing more of him this year?”

  Immediately, my face crumples into an expression somewhere between sorrow and rage. I know she sees it. A look of surprise flashes onto her face.

  She means Sawyer. Sawyer Alman.

  Sawyer helped me find my parents’ cabin in the woods over Christmas break. I let him into my home, into my life, even, I think, into my heart. I let him distract me, and that was a mistake. Sawyer betrayed me shortly thereafter, and I haven’ been able to forgive him.

  I don’t know if I want to forgive him.

  But I don’t know how to tell Aunt Trish this. I struggle with the words for a moment.

  “You mean Sawyer,” I say, buying myself time.

  “Sawyer,” she repeats. “That was his name.” Aunt Trish gives me a knowing look, raising her eyebrows. “Did something happen between you two?”

  “Yes,” I reply immediately. “I mean, no. I mean—I’m not sure I’ll want to see him again, so I doubt he’ll be back here.”

  Aunt Trish nods. “I see. Want to tell me about it?”

  “Not really,” I admit, and I shuffle my feet. “He just, I can’t trust him anymore. People like me, once they’ve crossed you … I don’t know if I can forgive him.”

  All at once, my aunt’s eyes harden. “I see.” She reaches up to scratch at her chin. “Then I suppose I’ll be setting the Christmas table for two this year.” She heads toward the kitchen, and I hear her mumble under her breath, “Thinks he can hurt my niece and get away with it.”

  I smile. When she says things like that, it’s easier to see the family resemblance between her and my mother. I’m surprised Aunt Trish
never tried to be a hunter. She certainly has the balls for it.

  When Aunt Trish emerges from the kitchen again, she’s bearing some toast on a napkin. “I know you like to go to the airport by yourself, but take some breakfast, won’t you? And be careful at school.”

  “I will,” I tell her, gratefully accepting the toast.

  She hugs me, pulling me close. She smells a little bit like peppermint and my childhood. I close my eyes and allow myself to seep into the hug. This might be the last bit of kindness I get before I head off to school.

  “I love you, Avery Black,” she whispers in my ear. “Be safe.”

  She releases me, and I grab my suitcase. “See you at Christmas,” she tells me. “Call me when you can, okay?”

  “Okay.” I smile and turn to head for the door. Maybe next year I’ll let her drive me to the airport. I glance over my shoulder before I leave, and Aunt Trish smiles at me, little tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “Bye,” I say, slipping out the front door before she can try to make even more of a scene.

  I’ve never been very sentimental. I guess that’s what makes us so different. I guess that’s the reason she never followed in her sister’s footsteps and became a hunter too.

  This life isn’t for everyone.

  I know I’m lucky, but I’ll need more than that if I’m going to make it through this year. If I thought last year was tough, I know I’ve got another thing coming.

  Last year, my biggest concern was getting dropped at the end of the year.

  This year, my biggest concern is surviving.

  It feels good to be back in the village outside Saint M.

  There’s nothing quite like it. Already it feels nostalgic for me; the smell of the air takes me back to last year, when I hunted down a taxi to take me up to the school. The road I’m walking on is the same I stormed down last year after Sawyer drugged me and interrogated me like the jealous asshole he is. The pub I’m heading into is where I had an intense—let’s call it a wordless conversation—with Piers, Owen, and Bennett. For one, brief second, my eyes linger on the wall of the pub where Piers pressed my back up against it and … no. I stop myself.

  I’ve ignored those boys all summer. I shouldn’t start letting them creep into my thoughts now.

  Not after what they did.

  They did more than torture, bully, and betray me. They made me look weak. They threatened to take my birthright from me.

  Never again.

  Cleaver, my axehandle hound, wags his tail happily as I push open the door to the pub. I found him in the woods outside my aunt’s house last Christmas, and he’s been my best friend ever since. He’s grown from a small pup that I could easily put in my backpack to a knee-high dog with a menacing growl. He might be a monster, but he’s a good boy.

  The inside of the pub is just how I remember. It’s the afternoon, so it’s just beginning to get busy. A few tables are full, but there are plenty open seats at the bar, which is where I planned on sitting anyway. I pat my leg for Cleaver to follow as I head there.

  “Avery!”

  I turn, despite knowing who the voice belongs to. I spot Sawyer Alman sitting in a booth by the door. I don’t know how I missed him earlier. After all my practice over the summer, I’m still as oblivious as ever.

  I wish I could say he looks the worse for wear, but that would be lying. He doesn’t look like a man who’s spent the summer regretting the terrible things he’s done. Specifically, of course, to me.

  Instead, he’s recently shaved so that his strong jaw is smooth. His golden eyes are exactly the same, but his light brown hair is a little longer now, brushing past his ears. He starts sliding out of the booth toward me.

  “Avery, hey! I tried to get up with you all summer!”

  “I know,” I reply curtly. Beside me, Cleaver growls. Last year, Sawyer and I were very close. So close, he was something like a boyfriend. That is, until he got my kelpie, Aurora, murdered. I was vulnerable with him, and it was all a goddamn lie.

  He pauses, taking in the tone of my voice. “Avery, please,” he says. “I want to apologize.”

  “You could never apologize enough,” I say coldly, and I turn away from him, heading to the bar. If there was literally anywhere else in this godforsaken village that sold alcohol, I’d already be gone.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sawyer considering coming after me. He doesn’t. The door slams shut behind him, and his shadow darkens the window a moment as he storms off.

  Good. I’d hate to have to break that pretty face before classes even start. Fuck Sawyer and his perfect jawline. Fuck his boy-next-door attitude. Though, mostly, fuck me for the way my stomach still turns somersaults at the sight of him.

  As I approach the bar, I spot Professor Helsing. He’s the tough, grizzled professor that knew my parents—and also happens to be the father of my friend and roommate, Erin. He glances over his shoulder at me and nods, patting the empty seat beside him.

  “Black,” Helsing says with a nod as I slide onto the stool. Cleaver sits by my feet, tongue lolling out of his axe blade-shaped head. He motions to the bartender and orders a beer for me in Romanian.

  I’m glad to still remember it since last year. It’s still a little tricky to speak it, but I can understand most of the conversations around me now, at least a little.

  “You’re a bad influence, you know,” I say as the bartender slides the bottle to me.

  “Drinking age is eighteen, and you’re nineteen now,” he replies gruffly. He takes a gulp of his own beer as I look him over out of the corner of my eye. He’s obviously been somewhere with a lot of sun over the summer, as his skin is tanned to a deep brown. The pink of the scar on his face stands out even more now than before. He sets down his beer and motions towards the door. “Saw you over there with Alman.”

  I glance over my shoulder. “Yeah,” I say. “Maybe I’m being hard on him, but—”

  “Those boys gave you hell last year,” Helsing interrupts in a growl. “Maybe it’s time you gave them a little hell in return.”

  There’s a reason I like Professor Helsing.

  A cold calm washes over me. He’s right. Ever since the end of last year, I’ve been thinking how to get back at them, how to make them as miserable as they made me last year. All year they tried to drag me down, to get me kicked out of Saint M. My failure would mean their success.

  None of us failed, but do they expect me to just forget about everything they did? All the pain, physical and emotional, they inflicted on me?

  I take a sip of my beer and glance over at Professor Helsing. “Where’ve you been this summer?” I ask. It’s funny how I’m not awkward around him at all anymore. I didn’t find out he was Erin’s father until the end of the school year, but now he feels like family. He’s not exactly kind—he’s too gruff for that—but he’s like a prickly, gruff uncle.

  He grunts. “Solomon’s temple. Near Jerusalem.” He pushes his empty beer away from him and motions for another. “Locals were reporting some kind of monster there. Turned out it was just a banshee. Brought it back here for the menagerie, since we didn’t have one.”

  My gaze wanders to my hands. “Was the banshee one of the ones that died?” I ask quietly so as not to be overheard. Last year, a crazed professor let loose the monsters in the menagerie near the end of the year, causing a school-wide battle that killed several creatures and injured some students.

  We’re lucky no one was killed … at least, of the human variety.

  “Nah. Used to have one a long time ago, but she died. Natural causes.”

  I nod, and my thoughts flit briefly to Owen. He may have participated in making my life miserable, but last year during the battle he was attacked by a lycanthrope. Last I heard, the transformation completed and he’s a full-blown werewolf now. I wonder if he’s returning to school.

  I wonder if he’ll be allowed.

  “Was Erin with you?”

  Helsing nearly spits out his beer, and shoots me a lo
ok. “What do you think? Too dangerous for a girl like her. She spent the summer with her mother. You two rooming together again?”

  I grin. “Yeah. I wouldn’t trade her for the world.”

  “She’s a good girl,” he says softly. “Not sure if she’s cut out to be a full-fledged hunter, but she’s damn smart. Maybe one day I’ll be teaching from a textbook she’s written.”

  I grin. Writing a textbook on monsters does sound like Erin; though she might actually make it to being a monster hunter. Last year during the battle, she turned down the offer of safety and joined the fight. With Cleaver—and an upperclassman by the name of Luiza de la Cruz—by her side, she fought her way through swaths of monsters to help secure the school.

  I’d never been so proud of her before.

  Helsing sighs and gets off his stool. “I’d better get on home,” he says. “Gotta be up early to teach you ungrateful little shits.” He grins at me, and I smile back. “See ya, Cleaver,” he adds, reaching down to pet my hound.

  Cleaver’s hackles raise and he nips at Helsing’s fingers. The professor hisses and yanks his hand back.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, sliding off my stool and pointing a disapproving finger at Cleaver so he settles down.

  “I’m fine. I’ve had worse. Didn’t even break skin.” He shows me his fingers.

  “He’s probably anxious and tired from all the traveling. I’m sorry,” I tell Helsing, but he just waves my apology away as Cleaver sits back down by my heels and eyes the professor warily.

  “It’s not a big deal, Black,” he assures me. He puts some cash down on the bar. “Have your next round on me. See ya in class tomorrow.”