Mind Over Monsters Page 6

  I give him the stare of death that scared my students into silence, but Oliver raises an eyebrow and smirks. Ignoring him, I turn to George. “It won’t happen again.”

  “So,” Oliver says, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers behind his head, “what do we hunt this time? Trolls? Mummies? Defense attorneys?”

  “No,” George says, “it’s an UNCRET right now.”

  Irie leans into my ear. “That’s an unidentified creature,” she whispers. “They usually start out that way.”

  “How many dead so far?” Will inquires, as if he’s asking for the house specials.

  “Two confirmed. One a week and a half ago, a woman, and a man tonight.”

  “How were they killed?” Carl asks.

  George raises the remote in his hand. The lights dim as the projector starts up. I gasp when the first picture comes on the screen, not prepared for what I see. Filling the screen is a woman, or at least what’s left of her. The only way I can tell she’s a woman is the few patches of long red hair still on her scalp and a high heeled shoe still on her detached leg. She’s been ripped to pieces, literally. Her left leg, head, and right arm are barely attached to her split torso. What’s left of her gray and bloody intestines hang out like huge spaghetti noodles in a pool of black goo and yellow cottage cheese matter. Her jaw is gone too.

  “Holy heck,” I say to myself. I can feel the color draining from my face.

  Once again, all eyes are on me. Most look sympathetic, all except Andrew, who can’t see me turning green, and Oliver, whose smirk has returned. Irie passes me a glass of water, which I down.

  “Are you all right, Beatrice? Do you need to step outside for a moment?” George asks.

  I put the glass down and in my strongest voice say, “I’m fine. Sorry. Please continue.”

  “Her name was Valerie Wayland,” George says, “local bank manager at Bridge Stone Bank in Bridge Stone, Colorado. Thirty-seven at the time of her death. Husband’s name is Walter, manager of the grocery store there. They had a daughter, Emma, but she died five months ago.”

  “Any connection?” Irie asks.

  “Daughter fell out of a tree and broke her neck, so no.”

  George presses the remote and the picture changes. The next one is of a live and whole Valerie Wayland, one of the professional type done in front of a forest backdrop. She stands between her husband and daughter, smiling that phony smile done for photographs. She looks older than thirty-seven, more like forty-seven, with streaks of gray in her curly red hair and plenty of wrinkles. She’s a good thirty pounds overweight but wears it well. A typical suburban mom. The husband also looks older, with a crown of salt-and-pepper hair wrapped from ear to ear and a shiny bald head to top it all off. Middle age hit early. All the fat traveled down to his stomach, creating a medium-sized spare tire. The daughter, Emma, who seems not to have gotten any of her parents’ imperfections, has long brown hair, pink lips, and a sweet smile. She reminds me of Elizabeth Taylor at that age. A typical middle-class family. I bet they even had a dog. George flips to another crime scene photo and I turn away.

  “How do we know a human didn’t do this?” I ask. “Or an animal?”

  “That’s why it wasn’t flagged before,” George says, “but the second body denotes a pattern.”

  “Oh.”

  “What about tonight’s vic?” Will asks.

  “Davis Wynn, owns the local butcher shop.”

  “Any connection between the two?” Andrew asks.

  “The body was discovered a little over an hour ago, so the local police haven’t begun the investigation yet.”

  “What have they found out so far about Valerie?” Irie asks.

  “Absolutely nothing, though I’ve only seen the case file,” George answers. “No enemies, no reports of domestic violence.”

  “So, wrong place, wrong time?” Oliver asks. “Was tonight’s victim in the same location?”

  “No. Wayland was found a half mile outside of the town and Wynn was discovered ten miles away. You’ll know more when you reach the scene.”

  “Any local scaries around?” Nancy asks.

  George opens his mouth, but I pipe up first. “It could be a Wendigo,” I instruct in my teacher voice, “a local Native American monster. A large half man, half animal, though the animals vary from tribe to tribe. They eat people. Beyond a Wendigo, the only things that can do that to a human are vampires, werewolves, ghouls—”

  “And psychokinetics,” Oliver interrupts. “A psychokinetic could tear a person apart with her mind, correct?”

  Will clears his throat. “We’ll do a full assessment when we get there. The rest of the team are already on their way. I’ll bring them up to speed on the plane. Dr. Neill will re-prep mobile command and fly in with it tomorrow. Twenty minutes, people.”

  Before everyone stands, Oliver raises a hand to stop them. “May I voice a concern before we disband?”

  “What?” Will asks.

  “I do not believe our newest member should accompany us on this trip.”

  My mouth drops open. “Why?”

  “Well, to be perfectly honest, I think you will be a liability. You have only just arrived today, and I do not think you are ready for the field yet.”

  “I completed my training!”

  “Be that as it may, Trixie dear, you almost threw up at a picture. What will happen when you are seeing and smelling the real thing? Besides, you could not even fend off a docile vampire tonight without the aid of a werewolf.”

  I jump up from my chair. “You—!” I push against his torso with my mind. The chair falls back onto the floor and so does Oliver. His arms flail trying to grab onto something to stop his descent, but he clutches at nothing but air. His head hits the floor with a thunk. Someone, I think it’s Nancy, lets out a giggle. Oliver is stunned for a second but then stands. I meet his furious eyes with my hard ones, my jaw clamped so tight my teeth hurt. I half expect him to jump across the table but he just stares, hands balled into fists. We glare for only a second, but it feels like an eternity.

  “That’s enough,” Will snaps. Oliver turns to him. “Oliver, I respect your concerns but the decision is not up to you.” Will turns to me. “It’s up to you. We’d all understand if you sit this one out. Do you want to come with us this time?”

  Do I want to? What kind of question is that? Do I want to look at a man torn limb from limb? Do I want to chase after something that can rip people’s jaws off? Would I rather stay in this mansion playing pool and watching old movies? Heck yeah! But nothing would give me greater pleasure than showing up that bloodsucking jerk. I turn to Oliver, imitating his smirk. “I’m coming.”

  His grin drops. Game, set, match.

  FIVE

  RIPPED APART

  My fourth time on a plane is no better than the previous three. This time, instead of being stuck in a huge tube with lots of people, I am in a freakishly small plane, a Cessna sixteen-seater. Luckily, Nancy plopped down in the seat next to me before anyone else—i.e., a certain undead jerk—could. But the second her butt was in the seat, her mouth began to move. Before we had even taken off I knew where she was born, her first pet’s name, how when she was five she wanted to be a ballerina and then later a sharpshooter for the army, and how when she was two she teleported into a closet and it took her parents three hours to find her. Finally, after the bumpy takeoff, Irie changes seats with Carl so she can kneel in the seat in front of me, interrupting a fascinating story about Nancy’s first trip to the dentist.

  “How you doing? Nervous?” Irie asks.

  “A little.”

  “Well, don’t be. We’ve done this a thousand times. Chances are it’s a werewolf, so all we have to do is sic Will on it, sit back, and watch.” She sighs, mock wistful. “You never forget your first time in the field. Mine was a vampire. She killed three people. Took us two days to track her and all of five minutes to ice her. It’s really not as bad as you might think. We usually never get hurt.”


  “Good to know,” I say with a half smile.

  “And speaking of vampires … ” she says in a playful tone, “what is up with you and Oliver? I thought you two never met.”

  “Oh, we met.”

  “So what happened? You turned him down, didn’t you?”

  “Turned him down for what?” Nancy asks.

  “A game of Parcheesi,” Irie says sarcastically. “Sex, of course!”

  Nancy turns to me, her mouth gaping open. “He asked you to have sex with him?” she asks in a high whisper.

  I feel my face go hot. That was all the answer they needed. Nancy’s eyes grow so wide they rival telescopes.

  Irie just chuckles. “I knew it! God, he can’t keep it in his pants!”

  As if on cue, Oliver saunters over, resting one arm on Irie’s seat and one on Nancy’s, but his eyes are on me. “I believe my ears are burning.”

  If only. “We were just talking about what a jackass you’ve been acting like,” Irie says.

  “Moi? I was simply trying to make our newest member feel accepted.”

  “Please! You were trying to get some.”

  His gaze turns to Nancy. “Are you trying to turn my Nancy against me?”

  Nancy turns as red as I was before. Yuck, she has a crush on him. No accounting for taste. “Jeez, Nancy, could you be more obvious?” Irie asks. Nancy turns an even deeper shade of red.

  “Nancy knows she is my girl, do you not?” Oliver asks with a wink.

  “She’s too good for you,” Irie says, “as is ninety-nine percent of the population.”

  “Are you including yourself in that, Irie?”

  “I am now. Now go away, your blood breath is making me sick.”

  Oliver removes his elbows from the seats. “Whatever milady wishes.” He gives Nancy another wink and walks back to the front of the plane.

  “I can’t believe I slept with him,” Irie says with a groan.

  It is my turn for my eyes to bug out. “You—”

  “Not my finest hour.”

  “You’re a total slut!” Nancy practically shouts.

  “Oh, please.” Irie smiles at me. “It’s sort of a rite of passage for us girls on the team. Lori held out the longest with two whole years. I lasted four months, and from what I hear, most hold out three. It’s best to just get it over with, otherwise he’ll never leave you alone.”

  “I think I’ll pass.”

  “That’s what they all say.”

  Nancy gets up in a huff, collecting all her things and moving to an empty seat as far from me as possible, which is all of three feet. Irie just raises an eyebrow and falls back into her seat. The only good thing about people being mad at you is they tend to leave you alone. Distraction time. I pull out my book and manage to get a few chapters under my belt. A chick lit murder mystery to get me in the mood. Of course, right when I get to a good point, my undead stalker plops himself into the seat next to me. Great. He gets bored and I suffer.

  “What are you reading?” he asks, grabbing the book right out of my hands. “A mystery. You know these things can rot your brain.”

  I snatch it back. “Then you must be an avid fan.”

  “Feisty. I had you all wrong.”

  I open the book. “Darn straight.”

  “Irie says I should apologize for my ill behavior.”

  “She’s right, you should,” I say, pretending to read.

  “I will not apologize for what I said at the meeting. I really do believe you should not have come,” he says almost sincerely.

  Now I look up from the book. “I don’t give a rat’s patootie what you believe. I’m here, and I am going to do my job. If you don’t like it, then you can stay away from me. I really won’t mind.”

  He’s silent for a moment, just looking at me with his lips pursed. “You really do not like me, do you?”

  “In the ten whole minutes I’ve spent with you, you’ve hit on me, insulted me, made me look like an idiot in front of everyone, and now won’t let me read my book. So no, I will not be joining your fan club. But hey, you can leave me alone now and my opinion might soften a bit.”

  That grin returns. “You are fiery, my dear. I like that in a woman. It translates to every area.”

  “I bet you’d sleep with a toaster if it showed interest. And I am not your dear.”

  “Unlike some, I have never had to resort to electronics for pleasure.”

  “Oh, I’m sure women have been falling at your feet for centuries.”

  “You will too,” he says with absolute certainty.

  “Not in a million years.”

  “Why? Are you attracted to women?”

  “No.”

  “Then you must be afraid of sex. Are you a virgin?”

  The book falls to my lap with a slap. “I most certainly am not! And even if I was, it is hardly your business! You know, this may be a hard concept to get through your narcissistic brain, but you are resistible.” He raises an eyebrow. “You’re good looking, but that amounts to very little in my regard. You won the genetic lottery, you did nothing to earn it.” I lift up my book again. “And even if you weren’t rude, inconsiderate, and charmless, you’re a walking dead man. I’m not into necrophilia. So please stop wasting both our time and give it up.”

  He’s about to respond with what is I’m sure another rude remark, but Will appears beside us. “Is everything all right here?” he asks in a low voice. Déjà vu all over again.

  “We’re fine,” I say harshly.

  “You really must stop interrupting, William,” Oliver says, sounding mad. Like, scary-vampire mad.

  Will isn’t fazed. “It looked to me like your conversation was just about over. Right? Ms. Alexander?”

  Great, put me in the middle. “Yeah.”

  “Then why don’t you leave her to her book.”

  Oliver looks over at me and then at Will, mouth gaping open. “Oh, I understand now,” he says as if he’s just discovered radium. Surprisingly, he gets up from his seat. “You can have her, William.” He leans in a little and the mirth drops. “For now.” With a wink my way, he moves to the front of the plane. I am more than sure I turn as red as Will. This is worse than middle school; we might as well be passing notes.

  “Um, he … ” Will says uncomfortably.

  “He’s a jerk,” I finish.

  “Understatement.” Will runs his hand through his hair. “Do you mind if I sit?” Not waiting for the answer, he does. Not that I would have said no. “I am so sorry for his behavior. He should get bored soon and then leave you alone. If he doesn’t, just come get me. I’ll straighten him out.”

  Part of me wants to kiss him for offering to look out for me. No man ever really did that for me, not even my policeman ex, Steven. But in this job I don’t have that luxury, especially not on my first case. “Look, I really appreciate what you just did, but … you need to stop it. If I’m going to get his or anybody’s respect, you need to stop rescuing me. I can handle him. I’ve handled a lot worse.”

  His face falls. “I didn’t mean to imply that—”

  “Oh, I know! But if I need help, I know how to ask for it.”

  Will nods. “Okay. But just so you know, nobody here thinks you aren’t up to the job. George has never been wrong before.”

  I scoot a little closer to him. He’s so warm, I want to curl up against his side, but I restrain myself. “Well, just between you and me,” I whisper, “I honestly cannot promise that when the bullets, or whatever this thing throws at us, start flying, I won’t run away. Bravery is not really my strong suit.”

  “Good to know!” Oliver shouts from his seat.

  I have got to remember that super-hearing. “Does he always do that,” I ask, knowing full well he can hear me, “because it’s

  really annoying.”

  A chuckle comes from the front of the plane. Will sighs and shakes his head. “Just ignore him.”

  “I’ll try.” I so want off this plane. Maybe if I ask ni
cely, the pilot will make a small detour to San Diego and drop me off. I close my eyes, willing it all away.

  “Are you all right?” Will asks.

  “Fine, except for the fact I’m homesick, scared to death, and seriously annoyed.”

  “This must all be very overwhelming for you.”

  “You could say that,” I chuckle. “I just don’t want to let you—I mean, everyone—down.”

  “You won’t. I know it.” He smiles and my stomach does a somersault. I have a feeling that will be a common occurrence around Will. “I was … um … very impressed that you came with us. And of your knowledge of the creatures. I think some of us here couldn’t tell a Sasquatch from a banana.”

  My mood has officially just improved threefold. I have to suppress a gleeful giggle. A gorgeous/not-scary man is not only talking to me, but he’s impressed. By me. Usually the only men who give me the time of day are guys who still live with their mothers or just got out of jail, and now I can add the undead. The drool-worthy undead, but still. So once again, I blush. “Thank you,” I say. “That means a lot. Especially—”

  “Would you two please be quiet?” Oliver shouts. “Any more lovey dovey talk and I may throw up my dinner.”

  “Then stop listening,” Will shouts back. He shakes his head in frustration and sighs. “Will you please excuse me?”

  “Sure.”

  Will makes his way up to Oliver and sits down. I can’t see anything but the tops of their heads, so I start my book again, but not before I see one of the FBI agents, Agent Wolfe, raise a blond eyebrow at me. I sure am making a great impression with the team.

  ——

  An hour later, the plane lands on a small airstrip, like the one we just left, except instead of being surrounded by flat nothingness, big bulks of black fill the void. There is a control tower and a small hanger but nothing more. The Rocky Mountains lay in front, beside, and behind us. If I could see them, I’d be impressed, but now all I can see is the black asphalt of the runway, and boy am I glad to see it.

  I’m the first one off, desperate to get out of the tense atmosphere. Nancy follows behind me and practically shoves me down the stairs, as if it’s my fault Oliver has at least some morals and won’t seduce a teenage girl. It seems that the chilliness from the plane escapes as soon as we do. It’s cold, especially for May. Welcome to high elevations, I guess. I’ve never been good with the cold. If it’s below sixty, I need two sweaters, earmuffs, and thick socks. Just another reason for me to miss San Diego.