The Monsters in Your Neighborhood (10 page)

11

Natalie had seen Alec’s wolf form six times since they’d started dating. It wasn’t like she liked it, but it was part of him, so she accepted it. When he turned, he got bigger, his face elongated into that of a canine, his teeth grew, and he became covered in hair. He traded off between walking on his hind legs and walking on all fours. His strength multiplied, but she could manage him, especially since they tied him down with special chains when the cycle began.

Mostly he just growled and howled and thrashed. But she never felt totally threatened, even if he managed to get an arm free to slash at her or something.

When he spun around to stare up at her from his crouched position on the floor, she recognized this was not that kind of wolf change and the thing staring up at her wasn’t Alec, either. This was something else.

His face had mangled into a half-man/half-wolf hybrid, something twisted and ugly. Hair covered his skin in patches, rather than a thick coat. His fangs were distended, but his eyes hadn’t changed entirely. One was still Alec’s, staring at her in something akin to an apology; the other was bloodshot, pupil dilated and empty of all emotion or humanity.

He grumbled, growled, and the only thing on his face was hate.

“Dear God,” she whispered as she backed away slowly. “What the fuck did they do to you, Alec?”

He tilted his head to stare at her. Prey, that’s all she was. And even though they had tussled a little bit when he was a wolf before, she could already see this was going to be different. Whatever Alec was at this moment, he had intent. And his intent seemed to be to kill her.

He lunged forward and hit her, flipping her onto her back as they skidded across the floor together. She pressed up against his broad chest and he leaned forward with all his might, smashing his teeth toward her in an attempt to rip her face off..

She managed to get him off of her just enough that she could throw a punch, and held nothing back as she connected squarely with his lupine nose.

He yelped like a dog and she flipped him off of her, leaping to her feet. They had managed to slide out of the living room and into the foyer. She backed up until she bumped against the console table. Reaching behind her, she slid her hand along its laminate until she felt the heavy lead candlestick from her father’s old mansion. She was about to grab it, but Alec had already gotten up, shaken his head, and reached for her again.

Taking her shoulders this time, he flung her. She flew away from the table and the possibility of weapons that the candlesticks represented. She hit the wall next to the kitchen doorway and felt her shoulder pop out of place. She jammed it back into its socket and turned around.

“Alec,” she said, rubbing her shoulder. “I know you’re in there. You need to look at me and remember who I am.”

Her words seemed to do nothing for the Alec-monster. He still slammed toward her in flat-footed rage, slashing his hands at her and snapping his teeth. He swung and she ducked. He hit the wall, ripping claw marks in the drywall that she was very glad were not on her face. There were lots of things she could replace on herself, but if you had to get a new nose, it was really hard to match skin tone. People tended to notice that.

She dove into the kitchen to avoid the second slashing of his claws and immediately regretted it. This was New York City. Her kitchen was ridiculously tiny and she had very few options on where to go. Especially since Alec had already come into the kitchen doorway, blocking her escape.

She flattened against the wall and looked at him. He stared back and then his half-wolf face broke into a . . .
smile
. Not a friendly smile, not a smart-ass Alec smile, but a hungry smile. A violent smile.

He lunged, and she grabbed for the first thing in her reach. A frying pan that had been soaking in the sink since morning. She swung it as he came at her, and—at the same moment he slashed, leaving a deep cut on her arm and dragging her to the floor—she smashed the frying pan down on his head.

He yelped in pain and slumped down on her, pushing her into the kitchen wall even further with his weight. She flinched as blood began to ooze from the cuts on her arm, but she set the pain aside and stared at Alec.

When he woke up, he could very well still want to kill her. She pushed at him, trying to move his deadweight so she could get into a better position just in case.

He groaned in response and flopped onto his back. Looking down at him, she let out a sigh. He was no longer in the twisted half-wolf form.

“Alec?” she whispered.

He looked up at her, his golden eyes clear and back to the man she knew.

“What happened?” he grunted. “Why does my head hurt?”

“I hit you with a pan,” she explained, helping him sit up. “You . . . well, I wouldn’t call it wolfing out. You turned into . . . something else, something horrible, and attacked me.”

He stared at her, and then his gaze slipped to the slices on her arm.

“Oh shit, did I do that?” he asked as he grabbed for a dish towel from the stove handle behind him and began to wrap up her arm to slow the bleeding.

They both knew the wound would close within a few hours, though she was pretty sure those cuts were deep enough to leave scars.

“You did,” she said. “Ouch, not so tight.”

“Sorry.” He shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Natalie.”

“It wasn’t you, not really you,” she said. “Not even wolf you. Alec, we were standing there just having a conversation and you turned into this
thing
. And you wanted to kill me. Do you remember any of it?”

He shook his head. “No . . . I remember us talking, and then it’s just gone. But my head hurts like a motherfucker.”

She smiled. “Hitting you in the head brought you back, so if you’re looking for an apology . . .”

“I’m not,” he assured her. “And yeah, it does hurt with a my-girlfriend-hit-me-with-a-pan pain. But something else, too. Something deeper. Something from the inside.”

Natalie bit her lip. “That doesn’t sound good.”

He looked around at the apartment. Chairs were broken, tables flipped over, there was blood on the floor. It looked like World War III had been fought in their living room and kitchen. “Yeah, it doesn’t look great, either.”

He put a hand on the counter and slowly pushed to his feet. She leapt up to steady him as he staggered slightly.

“What is going on?” she whispered.

Before he could say anything there was a knock on the door.

“That’s probably Igor.” Natalie sighed. “I’m sure he’ll have a ton to say about our redecorating.”

She left Alec to steady himself on the kitchen counter and went to the front door. She looked out the peephole and was surprised not to see her father’s old assistant outside after all. In fact, she saw no one.

Slowly, she opened the door. There was no one there. Just a note, folded neatly in front of the door. She took it and locked the door behind her.

Alec had come out of the kitchen and was slowly turning chairs upright.

“No Igor?” he asked.

“No anyone, just this.” She held up the note and looked at him, wary. She turned it over and froze.

The paper was embossed with an ornate
VH
.

He rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head. “Great. Just what we need right now. Well, unfold it and let’s see what else the awesome, freaking universe will throw at us, shall we?”

She unfolded the paper and sighed. “It’s short but sweet:
We have information that can help you. Meet us tonight at the brownstone, nine o’clock. Don’t be late.
”

“That’s it?” he said, staring at her.

She held the message out to him so he could see it. “Yup.”

She moved over to the cordless phone near the television. There was blood on it somehow and she wiped it off on her shirt hem before she picked it up.

Alec looked at her. “What are you doing?”

“Calling in sick for work,” she explained with a heavy sigh. “Seems like we have something else to do tonight.”

Alec hadn’t said anything to Natalie, mostly because she was already right on the edge of freaking the hell out, but also because he was still feeling woozy from . . . well, whatever had happened. On one hand, he wished he could remember; on the other . . . he wasn’t sure he’d like to be cognizant of what had been going through his mind when he’d tried to kill his girlfriend.

But now here they sat, in a dimly lit, slightly dusty parlor in the Van Helsing townhome, waiting for . . . something.

“Have you ever been here before?” Natalie asked.

He jerked his head to look at her. She had her soothing-the-wild-beast tone of voice going. Was he freaking out? Now he wasn’t even sure anymore.

“Um, no.” He fidgeted. “Never had the . . . well, I’d hardly call it a pleasure.”

“It’s sort of right out of one of those stupid books about us, isn’t it?” she asked with a strained chuckle.

He looked around. It
was
super-Gothic and creepy and completely clichéd. “And that butler? So weird.”

“Yeah, he’s freaky.”

“You two should talk,” came a voice from the door.

Both of them surged to their feet and Alec turned to face a tall blond man who had entered the room with such silence that even Alec’s dog ears hadn’t caught it.

“You may not remember me, Miss Gray—” he began.

Natalie stepped closer to Alec and glared. “Oh, trust me, I never forget a bastard. Desmond Van Helsing. Where’s the old man?”

For a moment, Desmond’s lips thinned and a flash of emotion entered his otherwise cold, clear blue eyes. “
I
will be handling this.”

Natalie seemed surprised by that, and in truth so was Alec. The old man had been their main rival for a long time. Having all these young ones running around now was . . . disconcerting, to say the least.

“Fine. Then what do you want?” Natalie’s tone was filled with quiet fire and Alec almost smiled. She was a tough girl when she let herself be. It was something he really liked about her.

Desmond ignored her question and looked at him instead. “And you must be the wolf.”

Alec stiffened. It was one thing for other monsters to make reference to his wolfiness. This was something else. Like he was a specimen to be examined.

“My
name
is Alec Dunham,” he corrected through clenched teeth.

The younger Van Helsing smiled ever so slightly, but never took his eyes off of Alec. He leaned in close, too close, and examined his face.

“Interesting,” he finally said with another thin smile. “Very interesting.”

“What?” Alec asked, even though he knew it was only playing into the bastard’s hand. “What is so fucking ‘interesting’?”

“I don’t see a difference.”

Natalie moved forward and pushed her way between Alec and Desmond. “Enough of your games.”

Van Helsing stepped away and poured himself a drink, but offered them nothing. Just another subtle reminder that they weren’t worthy, weren’t
human
.

“Mr. Dunham, Ms. Gray, as my note said, I have information for you.” He raised his glass to his lips and took a casual sip of liquor.

“And why would you ever share information with us?” Natalie spat. “I thought we were freaks.”

“You are,” Desmond said, and his eyes lit with fire and hatred that had been bred into him probably since birth.

“This is a waste of time,” Alec growled, moving for the door.

He hadn’t made it two steps when the younger Van Helsing called out, “Mr. Dunham, if you want to regain control over your little . . .
problem,
I would suggest you
sit down
.”

Alec spun around to face Desmond, but it was Natalie who moved on him. She lunged forward, caught his starched collar with two hands, and lifted him off his feet. She shook him, her face a twisted mask of her rage and frustration.

“What the hell do you mean? What do you know about Alec?”

“Put me down, Creature,” Desmond ordered.

Natalie stared at him for a moment, then did as he had said. He jerked his collar away from her and paced off, but Alec saw the truth. He saw Van Helsing’s fear, and it was a beautiful thing.

“Sit,” Desmond repeated. “Both of you.”

Natalie’s lip was curled up in a snarl, but she flopped herself onto an antique couch regardless, folded her arms, and waited for the explanation they had been promised. Alec had no choice but to join her.

“Now, Mr. Dunham, am I correct that on Friday night you received a phone call on your cellular?” Desmond asked.

Alec snorted at the use of the full word
cellular
, like it was classier that way or something, but he nodded. “Yeah.”

“Because of that, you left the side of
Drakule
and your other friends. After that, I assume you recall nothing?”

Straightening up, Alec tried to quell the sick feeling rising in his chest. “What the hell do you know?”

Desmond smiled. “I won’t waste any time. You have lost your memory because you were taken, rendered unconscious, and a surgery was performed on you.”

Alec stared. He understood the words coming out of this fool’s mouth, but their meaning made his already spinning head even foggier.