Where Monsters Hide (The Monster Within 1)

He’s gone almost breathless. “You really don’t know? I mean. Samson and Riley … they’re only the most famous monster hunters to ever live.”

I don’t miss a beat. “Well, that explains it then.”

He laughs, but it’s that sort of nervous sound people make when they don’t know how to react. “From that show you put on back there … I just figured you’ve been training your whole life for this. For them. Some sort of vengeance thing, you know?”

“Oh, I have vengeance in mind for sure,” I say. It doesn’t matter how famous they were when they were alive, they’re dead now … and something killed them. “But up until this time last year, I never would’ve believed you if you told me monsters were real … let alone that my parents spent their lives hunting them.”

Sawyer stops short so suddenly that the person walking behind him runs straight into his back. “C’mon,” he says, grabbing my arm and dragging me to the side so I don’t cause a multi-recruit collision in the middle of the path. I’m annoyed, but I don’t stop him until we’ve reached the edge of the trees.

“What are you doing?”

He ignores my question. “So you’re telling me you only found out about this whole world a year ago?”

I shrug. “Yeah, but it took me a while to find out about Saint M. I almost didn’t make the admissions deadline.”

He looks like he’s having trouble processing what I’m saying. “And all that?” He points back at the obstacle course disappearing behind us in the trees. “How’d you do all that?”

“Well, I spent the last six months getting ready.”

He looks stunned. “Six months? You could do that with the obstacle course after just six months?”

I just stare back. “How long did it take you?”

He gawps back at me, lost for words. “I … my whole … years, Avery. Years.” He looks at me with a new appreciation. “Holy shit, Avery. You really are the Black’s daughter.”

The admiration in his voice makes annoyance bubble up in me unexpectedly, and I have to bite my tongue to keep myself from saying something unkind. Up until this moment, right now, I had no idea my parents had any kind of reputation … let alone fame. Any advantage I may have for being related to them is outweighed by the fact that I’m years behind, a lifetime behind, the rest of these recruits in training and practical knowledge.

But how can I tell Sawyer that? How can I tell him that I had to leave that whole life behind me to be here, or that the fact that he seems to know more about my parents than I, their daughter, does, makes me want to punch him in the face.

I’m saved from having to tell Sawyer any

of this by the test administrator, who seems to have finally led us to our destination. We step out of the thick underbrush and into a large clearing with several prefab buildings.

He announces that the third trial—instincts—will begin shortly.

I glance up at Sawyer as he explains how the next trials will operate. He isn’t looking at me anymore, just frowning down at the ground in front of him like it’s another puzzle he can’t work out.

Once he’s done explaining how we’ll rotate through the next event, we’re freed to take a short break before it starts. The administrator’s eyes wander over to me as he suggests we all take a moment to freshen up.

I look down at my shredded pantyhose and bare feet. No need to tell me twice. I leave Sawyer to his puzzling and head for the bathroom like a girl on a mission.

The prefab building is blessedly cool inside. Some of the other recruits line up outside by the water fountains, but they all stop and look at me when I walk by. Their sudden silence tells me more than more whispers could. They’re watching me, waiting to see if I’ll live up to some expectations I wasn’t even aware of until just minutes ago.

I shift my backpack higher up on my shoulders as I walk past them into the bathroom, where I’m finally granted some privacy from prying eyes.

I slide into a stall and lock it behind me. There’s not much room in here, but it’s clean. I peel off my pantyhose and drop them straight into the little trash receptacle bolted to the wall. No saving those. I shouldn’t have bothered in the first place.

Despite the caked mud, my skirt and shirt can still be salvaged, so I tuck them into a pocket of my backpack by themselves so they don’t get all the rest of my possessions dirty. I switch out my bra for the sports bra I packed and pull on a pair of leggings and an old T-shirt. My bare feet I trade for worn, well-loved sneakers. I’m a hot mess, but at least now I look the part.

Once out of the stall, I can still hear the voices of others outside, but none of them have tried to follow me in yet. I take advantage of this brief moment and plug my phone in to charge while I splash water on my cheeks and try to fix my hair so it stays out of my face, and attached to my head, this time.

I knew I should have cut it before I came, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

I left more than my life behind when I found out about this world … and the flashing light of my phone as it comes back to life serves as a harsh reminder of that. Nearly two dozen messages, all from the person I left behind as well. My aunt, Trish, raised me as her own all these years, and I left her without so much as a warning.

In every way, I was the daughter she would never have. She’d loved me, cared for me; brushed my hair every night as she told me fantastic stories about the great adventures my parents were off having. What she never told me, however, was that all the stories were true. She never lied, and still, it hurts like she did.

There’s no Aunt Trish here to brush the tangles from my hair, so I just wind it into a sturdy rope-like braid. It’s sentimental, I know, and stupid—stupid enough that it almost cost me everything I came here for.