I got a text from Victoria just after my second cup of coffee, inviting me over for a study session. I had homework due on Monday, but I honestly couldn’t find it in me to care. I’d probably end up doing everything Sunday night in a frantic attempt to finish on time. I turned her down, and almost immediately got another text, this time from a number I hadn’t saved.
I know you turned down V, but maybe you’ll study with me instead? ;）
I had an idea, but I asked anyway: Who is this?
Jeremiah
Sorry, lol
Might’ve snagged your number when you gave it to my sister.
I rolled my eyes. I knew it. It’s not like I’d told him he couldn’t have my number, but this felt like he was pushing to see where my boundaries were. Why did he even know I’d turned down Victoria’s invitation?
Despite my determination not to believe Leon’s wild stories about the Hadleighs being members of some cult, a little red flag of suspicion was waving in my mind. They weren’t cult members （as if!） but Jeremiah was still giving me some weird vibes.
Well, like I told Victoria, I already have plans today
His response was a sad face. Aww, plans without me? I want an invite next time!
I put down my phone. I didn’t have time to deal with another cocky boy, I had monsters to worry about. I started another pot of coffee, then jogged upstairs to change out of my pajamas.
I had just slipped into some loungewear when I heard something bang against the side of the house. Cold dread washed over me, and Cheesecake scrambled up to hide under my bed. The sounds were coming from the wall near the firewood pile; it sounded as if something was rummaging through the logs.
Leon had made it sound as if those things only came out at night. I had no more herbs to burn. I didn’t think there was anywhere in the house I could barricade myself that a monster wouldn’t be able to break into.
Maybe they were weaker during the day. Maybe I shouldn’t hide this time.
I grabbed my knife, and then my baseball bat from where I had it stashed near the front door. Between stabbing and bashing, I figured I could take down one of those monsters. It had been about five years since I’d last played softball, but my swing was still in good shape.
No hiding in fear this time. I wasn’t helpless. These monsters needed to learn not to fuck with Raelynn Lawson.
I crept out of the house. The day was cool and gray, birds singing in the trees. There were deep scratches in the wood just outside my door, and I remembered the huge claws on the monster in the chapel. I’d have to move fast, bash it to a pulp before it could slash me.
I held the bat high as I neared the corner of the house, gripping the handle of the knife in my teeth so I could use both hands to swing. My heart was in my throat. This was madness. I should have stayed inside. Who the hell did I think I was, Van Helsing? I was a paranormal investigator, not a monster hunter!
As I stepped around the corner, the monster was coming the opposite direction. I flailed as it loomed in front of me, swinging the bat down with a scream.
The bat made contact, but it didn’t hit a monster.
Instead, it was caught and gripped solidly in one of Leon’s massive hands.
“Oh…oh my God…” The knife fell to the ground as my mouth hung open in horror. Leon was stone-faced, staring at the baseball bat gripped in his fingers, inches from his head. He’d dropped several long pieces of wood in order to catch it. Mouth twisting sourly, he glanced down at the dropped knife, then back to the bat, then to me.
And he began to chuckle, the laughter of a man who’d just caught someone doing something very, very naughty.
“You are the maddest woman I’ve ever met.” He jerked the bat out of my grasp and tossed it down among the wood pile beside him, but he’d dropped something from his opposite hand as he did so. I looked down at the thump, and nearly screamed again.
“What the hell, Leon?” I backed away from the pile of heads he’d dropped to the ground. Heads — the severed, skeletal heads of three Eld beasts rolled in the dirt. I backed away in disgust as he glared.
“Fucking hell, you need all the help you can get. A knife. A fucking baseball bat.” He snorted, grumbling to himself as I tentatively bent down and snatched up the knife. He collected the heads from the ground, holding them by the bits of scraggly fur and long hair clumped on them, and the pieces of wood he’d collected as well. He brushed past me, toward the front yard, a slight limp in his right leg.
I trotted after him.
“What are you doing?” He’d gone to the edge of the trees near my front driveway, dropped the heads again, and was lining up one of the long pieces of wood he carried with the ground. He was dressed in a black t-shirt and tight jeans, and his hair was disheveled and sported faint streaks of darkened blood. “What happened last night? Did you kill all of them?”