Where Monsters Hide (The Monster Within 1)

“Sure,” I say, setting down my drink to follow her behind her desk to another door.

“This is my storage closet. I think I might have some things in here that’ll interest you.” She puts a finger to her lips and I eye her as she opens the door, her hands fumbling a bit with a separate key. I wonder how much she’s had to drink, and what she could possibly want to show me that she doesn’t want to show everyone else.

Behind the door, there’s not so much a closet as a small library of miscellaneous yet carefully categorized objects. The shelves are filled with strange things; floating objects in jars, an assortment of meticulously-labeled claws in a case, mementos of hunts past. She leads me straight past all this to the most elaborate shelf at the very back of the room.

Small metal urns like the one containing the djinn occupy a nicely-carved wooden bookcase, though none are as large or decorative. Each has a little card in front of it bearing the name of a monster. Waldman proudly runs one hand across the top of a jar, as if it was a precious child.

“These are my phylacteries,” she says.

“You have your own?”

“Every monster hunter worth their salt does,” she replies, turning it over in her hands. “Only some creatures can be captured in spirit, but really, when it comes down to it … they’re the only ones worth hunting.”

I wonder if my parents had any; and if they did, where are they now?

“What happens if you break a phylactery?” I ask, eyeing some of the jars sitting closer to the edge of the shelf.

Waldman lets out a nervous laugh, but then quickly sobers. “It would escape, of course,” she says. “Which is why I have to keep this room here under close guard. Only my most special students get to see my treasures.”

There has to be at least three dozen of these jars. Everything from small water spirits to demons are labelled and neatly filed away here in the closet for safekeeping. Professor Waldman has taken the look on my face for rapture, not concern, and has gotten a glassy-eyed look of her own.

“Though, I suppose I have a fascination with them more than most. Usually they get sold to collectors.”

“What’s that one?” I point to one at the top. It has no decoration and no card.

Waldman glances at it; she carefully places the phylactery she’s holding back on its shelf and straightens its card.

“That one’s empty,” she says calmly, but something about her demeanor has changed. “It was supposed to hold a Wendigo, but—” Her voice chokes off and she closes her eyes, turning her face away from me.

“But that’s not what I wanted to show you, really.” She moves to a different shelf, away from the phylacteries, and picks up a little box about the size of a pencil case. “I actually wanted to ask you for a favor.”

“A favor?” I repeat.

“Yes.” Still holding the box, she picks up a glass vial from the shelf beside it and shows it to me. “I need you to fill this with Piers Dagher’s blood.”

“What?” I snap, taking a step back from her, toward the door.

“No, no—okay, that started off wrong.” She laughs a little. “You see, Piers’ father asked me to concoct an anti-vampire serum for him. A protective charm,” she adds.

“Okay.” I stare at her face. She’s acting … strange. Her smile seems forced, and her hands look a little shaky. “Why don’t you just ask him?”

She laughs, but it sounds almost frantic. “Well, he doesn’t want Piers to know. He doesn’t want to embarrass him.”

I look around. I’m not entirely sure I have a choice. This is a direct request from a teacher, after all, however strange.

“I don’t know why you’re asking me,” I say. “I’m the last person Piers is going to let anywhere near him. I can’t just … poke him with a needle or something during class.”

“That’s where this comes in,” she replies brightly, holding up the box. It’s entirely unremarkable; just a plain wooden box. She suddenly becomes serious as she holds it out to me. “Avery, your parents gave this to me. It seems fitting that you should have it.”

I take it and look it over. I find the little lid and am just about to open it when Waldman slams a hand over the top to stop me. “No, not here! You remember our first class? We talked about iratxoak?” She points to the box. “That’s what’s in there.”

I almost drop the box in surprise. “There are a bunch of little imps in here?” I say, holding it out at arm’s length.

I vaguely remember a photo of them, but she went over so many different kinds of pixies.

“Yes. I think they could probably help you.”

“And couldn’t you just use them yourself?”