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Truth and Consequences: The Monster Files, #2
by Cate Dean
Ratings:
177 pages2 hours
Summary
Book 2 in the action packed YA paranormal series.
Alex Finch survived her first encounter with monsters. But in the fallout, she lost Sam, and gained a vicious, clawed Devil as a stalker.
Now, a random attack, a threatening note, and a surprising discovery leads Alex closer to the truth of what happened ten years ago.
With the help of her new friends, she digs even deeper into Emmettsville's past, and finds out that learning the truth has consequences.
Sometimes, deadly consequences.
*Includes an exclusive excerpt of Welcome to The Haven, Book 3 of The Monster Files.
The Monster Files:
Book 1 - Alex Finch: Monster Hunter
Book 2 - Truth and Consequences
Book 3 - Welcome to The Haven
Book 3.5 - A Monster Files Wedding
The Monster Files Box Set (includes Once Fallen and Finding Grace)
The ideal reading sequence is:
Alex Finch: Monster Hunter
Truth and Consequences
Once Fallen
Welcome to The Haven
Finding Grace
A Monster Files Wedding
And if you can't get enough of Zach, he is introduced in Book 3 of The Claire Wiche Chronicles.
Publisher: Pentam PressReleased: Feb 3, 2014ISBN: 9781501402579Format: book
Book Preview
Truth and Consequences - Cate Dean
List
One
Life is funny.
No, wait—I already started with that one. Let’s do this again.
Life is strange.
As in monsters-do-exist-and-one-of-them-is-after-me strange. Which explains why I found myself on an archery range after school, struggling with a heavy crossbow.
Yeah—just like the crossbow left in my car after Sam’s mom was hurt. The one that was still missing. I try not to think about who might have taken it. Or what might have—okay, getting off that topic.
I found my crossbow online, after discovering the amazing world of reenactment sites. They are a fantastic resource for all sorts of medieval-looking pointy things, like weapons.
And speaking of Sam, he was still gone.
After more than a month, I haven’t gotten used to the gaping hole in my heart.
Well, that was dramatic. Actually, I missed him, more than I ever thought I could miss anyone. But the holidays helped, with Thanksgiving in just a couple of days. I knew this year it would be bittersweet for me.
That’s where the archery range comes in. Not only did I need a serious distraction, I also needed to know I could defend myself, and have a fairly easy weapon to get my hands on when I needed it. So far, the crossbow was not that weapon.
It’s too big for you, Finch.
I whirled at the familiar voice. Jake strutted across the range, wearing—I had to look twice for it to register—the uniform of an instructor. Fabulous.
Hey, Jake.
He flashed a smile, and relieved me of the crossbow. My arms ached just from holding the bloody thing. I deliberately ignored the ache in my back, where the scabbed over wounds from the Devil sent out a twinge every hour or so to remind me they were there. I figured I could—
Work your way into it? One shot would drop you on your—
He raised his eyebrows and glanced in the direction of my butt. When I glared at him, his smile widened. Why this sudden need for heavy weaponry?
Ever since Halloween, I tend to spill my guts whenever Jake asks a question. The monster I thought I killed knows where I live.
Ah.
He’d had his own run-in, so I knew he’d understand. But for some reason he also looked—uncomfortable. Before I could ask, he started walking toward the building. Come on—I have something that will work much better for your size.
I had to hustle to keep up with him, and my still hinky ankle let me know it was unhappy about running across an uneven field.
Yeah, all the abuse finally caught up with me. I had to wear an ankle brace on it pretty much all the time, and Madame Chloe banned me from class until it was off.
I also had to give up my beloved motorcycle boots until my ankle healed. My collection of ballet flats had grown over the last month. Honestly, I felt naked without all that heavy leather covering the bottom half of my legs.
I caught up with Jake at the equipment room. He had already been inside, and held up a simple recurve bow. A green recurve bow.
That’s for kids, isn’t it?
It’s for people who need something smaller,
he said. Don’t frown at me like that. It’s more powerful than you think.
He handed it to me. I was surprised by how light it was, and how good it felt in my hands. So good, I wanted to give it back. Immediately. Keep it, Finch,
he said. Obviously my internal struggle was more visible than I thought. I’ll feel better knowing you can defend yourself with more than a pocket knife.
At least I can carry that around without looking like an extra from Robin Hood.
I tested the bowstring, tried to look like I knew what I was doing. And let out a yelp when it snapped against my left forearm.
Smiling, Jake held out a gorgeous green suede—something. An arm guard,
he said. It will protect your arm from what you just did. Here.
He slid what looked like a black leather fingerless glove on my hand and velcroed the whole thing so the long strip of heavy green suede covered my still stinging inner forearm, and my palm. It will also keep the bow from slipping because of panic sweat.
I raised my eyebrows. I don’t panic.
No, I didn’t panic when I killed my first monster—or thought I killed it. I cried, feeling like my heart had been ripped out.
But maybe he did have a point. With the monster—known as the Devil in my handy guide to all the monsters, half-humans, and Others that really did exist—leaving a warning that it knew where I lived, panic may just happen. At the wrong moment.
Jake waited for me to figure that out. So—we on the same page now?
I let out a sigh. Yeah.
Good. Since you now have plenty of time in the afternoon, I want you here, practicing with that bow until it’s second nature. And you can multitask—dance across the field when you go to pull your arrows out of the target.
Hilarious.
I could barely hear myself over his laughter. There it is—the reason I never wanted anyone to know about my dancing. Are you finished?
Sorry.
He couldn’t seem to stop grinning, so I let it go. And he looked so much like a dark haired/dark eyed version of Sam, I found it easier to forgive. Let’s get some arrows and see how much work I’m going to have ahead of me.
~ ~ ~
I surprised both of us by being a natural.
By the time Jake let me go, my hands ached, my arms and shoulders ached more, and I had several bruises on my left forearm, in spite of the guard.
Okay, my pretty little Robin Hood.
Jake pulled the bow out of my hands before I could nock another arrow. That’s enough for today.
But I can—
You’re going to be cursing me tomorrow already.
He packed the bow and practice arrows in a bag, and slid it over my shoulder. I managed not to cringe at the weight. Now go home, take a long, hot bath, and stretch. I know, you’re a dancer, with all that compact muscle. But you’ve been using different muscles today. Trust me—you’re going to feel it tomorrow.
Tomorrow? I already felt like someone beat me with a stick. But I wasn’t going to say a word, and would do my best not to limp to my car. Okay,
I said. I’ll see you here tomorrow?
Jake swallowed, looked away from me. I have—another appointment. But I’ll have one of the other instructors work with you. Go home, Finch, get some rest.
He walked across the field—and startled me by picking up my crossbow, and taking it with him. Since I couldn’t use it without major injury to myself, I had planned to donate it to the archery school. But why did Jake need it?
I really wanted to follow him—but now every muscle was begging for some R and R. Careful of my ankle, I limped across the field, headed for my car. All I wanted right now was a bath, a big bowl of Dad’s spicy homemade chili, and my bed.
Crazy me—I was still looking for normal.
Two
I got everything I wanted—plus a shoulder massage from Mom, who has magic fingers. After that I had to practically crawl up the stairs. I was just grateful I didn’t have school this week.
I made it to my room, pushed off the pile of decorative pillows and flopped on the bed, groaning when I saw the latest self-defense articles on my other pillow, mocking me.
I promised I’d read or watch something every day. I planned to enroll in some sort of instruction, on the sly, and the articles/videos helped narrow down the plethora of choices.
Sitting up, I grabbed the pile of paper, started reading the top article, one I’d found on knife fighting. It was—let’s just say a little bloody, so I set it aside, queasy from the really visual descriptions.
And the pendant caught my eye.
I’d started leaving it on my bedside table, as a reminder of what was out there, possibly waiting for me every time I stepped outside my house. It looked like a piece of costume jewelry, so Mom ignored it.
And Dad already knew I had it—I couldn’t keep double locking everything in the house without some sort of explanation.
I reached out and snagged the leather cord. The pendant, shaped like the Anglo-Saxon Algiz rune, was made of some kind of dense, unbreakable opaque glass that glowed yellow when it was turned on—somehow. I hadn’t figured that out yet. The Devil just touched it. Maybe if I was wearing it...
Swallowing, I lifted the cord over my head, and eased it down, until the pendant tapped against my ribs. When nothing happened, I unclenched my muscles, and cradled it in my right hand.
Why won’t you light up? I wonder if it’s set for a particular—
I blinked as it started glowing, the rune pulsing with a brighter, richer yellow than I remembered. Mesmerized by the light, I didn’t hear Mom until it was too late.
Sweetheart.
She swung open my door, and I froze, waiting for the inevitable questions. Instead, she looked past me—no, through me, like I wasn’t there. Raleigh, I thought you said she was in her room.
Dad appeared behind her, and looked right at me. His gaze dropped to the pendant in my hand, and both eyebrows lifted. I recognized that gleam in his eyes—it almost got him killed the last time I saw it.
She did mention going over to Misty’s, to work on their school project. We’ll leave her a note, Beth.
All right.
She turned, and wrapped both arms around Dad, her face pressed against his shoulder. After you both came home injured last month, I don’t really want either of you out of my sight.
I could tell by the sound of her voice she was crying. Dad had tried to lie his way out that night—and Mom shut him down, just asking for the truth when we could tell her.
She had been so calm, celebrating Halloween like she always did, at an all-night dinner dance with Dad. Now I saw how much she held back around me. She must have been terrified, seeing both of us limping into the house, looking like we had come back from war. At the best of times a paper cut could freak her out.
Knowing she kept up a brave front for me tightened my throat. Dad nodded to me, and I knew we’d be having a talk later. He held on to Mom with one arm, and gently closed my door, his voice quiet as he led her down the hall.
I stared down at the pendant, understanding now why not one of our gossip hound neighbors so much as peeked out while I was being attacked by the Devil. This glowing piece of glass had something to do with it.
And I got a crazy idea.
I was going to take the pendant on a test run.
Three
The next morning, after a family breakfast, I rushed my parents without looking like I was rushing them. Once they left I dashed up the stairs, apologized to my ankle, and grabbed the pendant out of its hiding place in my dresser. After last night, I wanted to make sure Dad didn’t confiscate it.
I held my breath as I settled the leather cord around my neck. It lit up the second the leather touched my skin. I tucked the pendant inside my sweater, slipped on a pair of flats, and headed down to the front door.
I grabbed a hoodie off the coat rack, wrapped a long, bright red scarf around my neck. The damp coming off the ocean could be cold, especially with the morning gloom hanging around.
After locking the door behind me, I took a deep breath, and walked to the sidewalk. My first test was right next door—Mr. Gregory, a retired Marine drill sergeant, who never quite got over being retired. He always watered his lawn first thing every morning, no matter how damp it got overnight. And he never failed to make some comment about my less than feminine fashion choices.
I walked past his front yard, ready for this morning’s critique.
Hey, kid!
The drill sergeant bark he never lost carried across the street. I halted, looked over at him. And blinked when he looked past me, waving his fist at one of the Jackson twins, who decided to create one of his chalk masterpieces right in front of Mr. Gregory’s gate. Draw one more line on my sidewalk and I’ll drag you over this fence and teach you the meaning of discipline!
The twin stuck out
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