Where Monsters Lie (The Monster Within 2)

“The fuck was that?” Piers asks, emerging from the tent.

“It’s the agropelter,” I say, springing to my feet. With their long, whiplike arms, agropelters have deadly accurate aim. “Come on, boy,” I say to Cleaver. “Let’s get it!”

Cleaver shoots off like an arrow into the night, plunging into the darkness of the forest. I click on my flashlight and follow him.

“Avery, wait!” Piers calls, but I’m gone. I don’t have time to wait for him—and I don’t want to, anyway. The agropelter is so close. My revenge is so close.

I have to find it before he does. I have to do this all on my own, just like I planned.

I hear the creature traveling in the branches above me. Every now and then a pinecone smacks me in the back of the head. At one point, a rock whizzes by and I’m lucky enough to dodge out of the way before it kills me.

I change my tactics. I stop. I let it come to me. Cleaver bounds around me in a circle while I keep my eyes on the trees. I spot a flash of movement and throw one of my readied daggers. There’s a thwack as it hits something, and then a muffled shriek. My hear

t soars. Have I done it? Is this finally my revenge?

“AVERY, BEHIND YOU!”

Piers stumbles out of the trees, his face pale. I glance over my shoulder and immediately freeze. A huge, hulking figure steps toward me—almost seven feet tall, with blue skin and a long, green beard.

“Ebede,” I whisper.

He stares at me with wise, angry, glowing eyes. His huge hands hold a club as long as I am tall. I’ve come across ebede lore in my frantic research. They’re forest guardians … and they aren’t exactly friendly.

“He won’t hurt us,” Piers whispers, coming to stand beside me, “as long as we haven’t hurt anything.”

Behind me there’s a thump as something heavy falls out of one of the trees. I turn to look back, already knowing what it is. It’s the agropelter, face down in the snow, my dagger protruding from its back. It’s dead.

The ebede lets out an awful roar and takes a step toward us. Cleaver leaps in front of us, growling, but the ebede completely disregards him. Cleaver is a creature of the forest, and so not a threat.

“Shit,” I mumble, unzipping my coat. It’s freezing.

“The hell are you doing?” Piers snaps.

“Look, I don’t know why, but there’s only one way to run from an ebede,” I tell him. My teeth are already chattering. “You have to turn your clothes inside out and put your shoes on the opposite feet.”

“Fuck.” Piers begins to follow suit.

The ebede stops, confused, as we both remove our coats and turn them inside out. I suppose to him, it looks like we’re removing all our fur or something. The books I read didn’t tell me why it works. I kick off my shoes and slip them on wrong.

“Run!” I yell at Piers, and he does, flopping awkwardly in his backward shoes. The ebede stares in confusion as I snatch up the body of the agropelter and limp away as fast as I can. Cleaver takes off after us.

The arches of my boots dig painfully into the flat parts of my feet, but I soon pick up a good rhythm and get close to my usual running speed. The agropelter weighs more than I expected. I clutch its bloody corpse, and its arms streaming out behind me.

When we finally stumble back to our campsite, I lay the agropelter down in the snow and yank the dagger from its back. Piers and I correct our clothing and sit down heavily. Morning begins to dawn around us. Soft, gray light makes everything easier to see.

“Nothing in the report says anything about an ebede,” Piers gasps, out of breath. “That must have been the weird farmer I saw.”

“Yeah,” I agree, trying to steady my heartbeat. Ebede can disguise themselves as humans. I should have known better when Piers said he saw that man with the glowing eyes. My stupidity could have cost us our lives.

“You killed the agropelter,” Piers says, quietly, after a long moment. The sun has just started breaking over the tops of the trees, but that doesn’t necessarily mean we’re safe. We should get out of here as soon as possible.

I glance at Piers. He looks so handsome flushed with exertion. He’s tugging his winter boots back on the correct feet.

“Yeah,” I say, equally quietly. “I did.”

He just nods, still staring off in the distance. “I barely helped. You didn’t need me.”

I glance sharply at him. He’s refusing to look at me as the truth of it takes hold of him.