Page 63 of Endless Anger (Monsters Within #1)

ASHER

“Did you know there are more than seven hundred varieties of toxic plants found in the U.S. and Canada alone?” Quincy looks up at me from the old leather-bound book in her lap, toying with its silk bookmark.

I slide my fingers along the pencil marks in my sketchbook, smudging them for texture. “You always did find the weirdest things fascinating.”

“Are they weird just because you don’t think they’re interesting?”

“Yes.” Pausing, I glance at her for a second before going back to my drawing. “But also because you’re weird. It wouldn’t surprise me if you found all the Fury Hill lore about the existence of curses and immortality interesting too.”

“Well, it is classic lore. I’m pretty much required to find it at least mildly amusing.”

“And this is why I don’t normally hang out with you.”

I can practically feel her eyes roll as she swivels away in her chair to look out the window in her office. Unlike Dean Bauer’s, Quincy’s overlooks the forest and mountains beyond, nestled in the back of the admin building with the rest of the classics department.

“Hey.” She doesn’t turn around. “Do you realize how long it’s been since we’ve heard from Noelle? ”

My hand freezes. “I assumed she decided she no longer wanted to attend. You know she’s fickle.”

Quincy taps her book. “Yeah, but when I told her I was coming back to Avernia to teach, she seemed really into the idea of enrolling. Especially when I told her that, if nothing else, the theater department here is prolific. LA hasn’t exactly done her any favors.”

That much is obvious. Years spent out west, and not a single mainstream production under her belt.

“I used to get phone calls from her at least once a week,” Quincy says, spinning back around and closing her book. “But I haven’t heard from her in over a month.”

“Mom and Dad have talked to her though. Maybe she’s just decompressing.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. It just feels strange, I guess.”

“Well, you like worrying about everything, so I’m not surprised you think that.”

She chucks an Avernia pen in my direction, and it bounces off my wrist, clattering to the floor. “Whatever, asshole. Where’s your other half?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say on her way back from a Curator party.” Lifting my chin, I scan the analog clock hanging on the wall above her office door and nod to myself. “I told Foxe to bring her back by ten thirty.”

“You let Foxe take her to a party?”

“Well, you needed me to move those goddamn statues around, so I couldn’t go.

” I toss a glare at the heavy marble busts crowding the corner of the room, too large to be stored in here, but Quincy insisted.

Something about them being too expensive to leave anywhere else, and since they came from the Daughters of Persephone donation fund, she didn’t want to take any chances.

Seems like there are a million other people on campus she could’ve asked, but I’ve noticed Quincy doesn’t really interact with many faculty members. She especially steers clear of the art department, but I can’t be bothered to ask why .

It was her decision to come back here, so I assume she has her reasons.

“I love how helpful you’ve gotten as an adult.” Quincy smiles, pushing her bangs from the frames of her glasses. “Mom will be so proud.”

Flipping my sketchbook shut, I stand and grab my jacket, shrugging into it. “I’m leaving.”

She gives me a half salute as I exit the office. Darkened, narrow halls lead me to a stairwell, and I come out through an emergency door, facing the Elysian Dorms. At night, their stone walls and gabled roofs look even creepier than usual.

Especially with the moon hanging high in the sky above them, looming like it’s waiting on something terrible to happen.

Knowing Avernia, it probably already has.

Erebus Hall is dead when I enter, which isn’t necessarily strange for this time of night but still something I note in the back of my mind. As an RA, I guess that’s technically part of my duties here, though I’ve been slacking the entire time I’ve been enrolled as a student.

In my room, I kick off my shoes and curl up on the bed with my laptop, streaming some horror anime and running my hands over Keats’s soft fur. He purrs, butting his head under my chin while we wait for Lucy.

Around eleven, I glance at my phone, noting the lack of calls and texts. It’s not unlike her to go a long time without messaging, because she just forgets to reply, but Foxe on the other hand is a bit of a red flag with how often he wants to keep in touch.

I could have just seen him, and he’d be texting again within minutes.

Another half hour creeps by, and I head to Lucy’s dorm down the hall. Flattening myself to the floor, I check for lights and shadows beneath the door and am met with neither.

I knock anyway. Just to check. And then I try for the handle; it turns easily, and I push the door open, swallowing over the knot in my throat.

“Luce?” I call out, though it’s immediately obvious she isn’t here.

Something vicious churns in the pit of my stomach. I glance around at the messy space, knowing she’d kill me if I tried to tidy up, so I keep my hands to myself .

Sitting on her bed, I bury my face in her pillow while I wait, inhaling the scent of coconut.

My heart aches, wanting to be near her already. Next time, Quincy can move her own shit.

Twenty more minutes pass, with me constantly checking my phone in the meantime. A collection of agate lines her desk above ecology textbooks, mostly brown and deep red rocks, just like the ones she collected when we were younger.

A small smile touches my mouth at how very little she’s changed since I first fell in love with her.

The smile freezes, and my bones become heavy.

Love?

I stare up at the ceiling, replaying every important moment from our childhood. The first time I can remember seeing her, registering her, and how our connection was instantaneous. Like our souls were aligned by fate, intertwined in the galaxy, and written in the stars.

Even when we were apart, it never felt like that shifted. Even when she hated me, wanted nothing to do with me, the tether was still bound between us, pulling taut until we came back together.

I never should’ve ditched her in the first place, but I meant what I said to her the other day.

She’s it for me. I’ll never leave her alone again.

After tonight, that is.

Frustration laces my body, making my muscles grow tight. I drive the heels of my hands into my eyes, annoyed with how neither she nor Foxe have shown up yet. If I’d known he was going to keep her out longer, I wouldn’t have been okay with him going at all.

But I knew she wanted to see Beckett, so I figured Foxe was better than nothing. He’d die for her as much as I would.

Tapping my fingers on my chest, I wait five more minutes. Then another five until I realize that maybe I’m still waiting because I don’t want to acknowledge a possible alternative.

My thumb hits Lucy’s name in my phone contacts, and a buzzing sound comes from across the room. Turning my head, I see a little black rectangle light up, and as the vibrating continues, it slips from the desk onto the floor.

She forgot her phone.

Cursing internally, I push Foxe’s name instead; the call immediately goes to voicemail. I try again and again and again with the same results each time.

An unsettling sensation begins winding its way up my sternum, and I send Foxe a slew of texts asking where the hell he is.

They don’t show as delivered, and paranoia starts to set in, strangling my lungs in its claws.

Getting up from the bed, I sprint down the hall for my shoes and jacket and then run out of the dorm. As I’m leaving, I remember that Beckett gave me his number after class one day, so I scroll through my contacts looking for it and almost mow Aurora over completely.

She ducks on the other side of the door, narrowly avoiding my elbow in her face.

“Jesus, watch where you’re—” She cuts off when she realizes it’s me, and her face relaxes slightly. Blue eyes look up at me in the moonlight, but they’re not as dark or vast as I want them to be. “Oh, hey. I was actually just coming to find you. Have you heard from Foxe today?”

Skidding to a halt, I whirl around. “Have you ?”

Confusion mars her features. “No, that’s why I’m asking. Usually by this time at night, I’m getting dozens of texts from him, so it’s kind of weird that he hasn’t tried to contact me yet.”

“Usually?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were speaking at all.”

Pink flushes her cheeks. “It’s not what it sounds like. Since he came here with you, he messages daily. I don’t normally reply, but…”

“You like the attention.”

She doesn’t respond, pushing her tongue into her cheek.

Rolling my shoulders, I try to ignore the anxiety pooling in them. “Well, I haven’t heard from him, so if you know where they may have gone during a Curator party, I’m all ears. ”

“They?”

“Him and Lucy.”

“At a Curator party?” Something strange crosses her face, and her mouth twists up as she pulls her phone out, thumbs flying. After a second, she nods, looking back to me. “Yeah, the party ended, like, an hour ago. They had people cleaning the quarry already according to Yuri and Sara-Sofia.”

“Who the fuck is Yuri?”

“A friend who was at the party. With Sara-Sofia.”

“Why weren’t you there?”

“I had shit to do.” She narrows her eyes. “Why weren’t you there? Aren’t you supposed to be Lucy’s guard dog or something, not Foxe?”

Grabbing her by the elbow, I drag her along as I start walking toward the Primordial Forest. “Let’s just fucking find them, all right?”

Two hours later, and we’re still coming up empty.

No one’s seen or heard from Lucy or Foxe since the Curator party broke up, and only a few people remember that she was in attendance at all.

They don’t know where a handful of students took off to, noting that they’d indicated starting another party closer to the mountains, but without daylight or the layout of the forest, finding them feels impossible.

If I’d finished putting tracking devices on all her sweaters and cardigans, this wouldn’t be happening. Fuck.

Nausea hardens my stomach, a ball forming in the middle that keeps me on the verge of puking the longer we go without locating them.

Eventually, we come to a stop at the burnt gazebo, and I have a horrid flashback to the awful things that can happen in these woods. Our flashlights illuminate the area, casting shadows along the treeline.

“I think we should call someone,” Aurora tells me as she leans against a trunk, rubbing at her throat .

An icy breeze coasts through the air like a ghost passing by, making it colder than before. In the distance, an owl’s hoot echoes among the leaves, and my skin feels like it’s covered in slime, immobilizing me.

Aurora kicks a rock in my direction. “Hello? Are you listening? Don’t you think we should tell someone our cousins are missing?”

I manage to shake my head. “We don’t know that they are.”

“Oh? What would you call it then?” she snaps.

“It doesn’t fucking matter. Avernia campus police won’t give a shit. You’ve seen them handle the other deaths this year.”

“So what? You want to just do this on our own?” She makes a face, giving me a once-over. “No offense—or full offense, actually, because I don’t give a fuck—but I’m not sure I trust you enough for that.”

Whipping out my phone, I pull up the contact we both know we’ll need, and hit the call button. She pales, slinking back and slamming her mouth shut.

My heart ricochets in my chest like a stray bullet, apprehension slashing at my insides.

There isn’t any other choice. If we go to the dean, he won’t be any help considering he wants Lucy gone. The police will side with the founding families, and they’d take too long to do anything anyway.

There’s only one person in the entire world whose hunting skills would give him the actual means of locating her—who’d travel to hell and back to find her.

Alistair Wolfe answers the video call on the third ring; the camera cuts to his lean face, aged the way my father’s is, though when he makes eye contact with me, his takes on a bit of an edge that Dad’s lacks.

For as long as I can remember, that edge was there, though it’s never felt more deadly than right now.

Still, his blue eyes are exact replicas of his daughter’s, and the reminder that I cannot fucking find her pounds in my skull.

“This had better be good,” he says, his English accent muted and raspy from sleep.

Aurora shoves her face in the camera’s frame. “Hi, Uncle Ali! ”

“Rory,” he coos, his features softening. There’s a long, drawn-out pause in which it feels as if we’re waiting for something. Or some one .

Nobody talks, and Alistair’s face quickly becomes solid stone again.

Some rustling comes from his end as he appears to push back sheets and climb from the large four-poster bed he shares with his wife. I hear her softly call out and ask where he’s going, though I don’t catch his reply as he leaves the room and walks down the hall.

Tapping sounds scatter as he enters his office, and the camera shifts, revealing a chocolate lab with a partially white face trailing behind him. Clearing his throat, Alistair settles in behind his desk, propping his phone up on some sort of stand.

“ Speak ,” he demands.

Growing up, everyone always seemed more afraid of his wife, Cora, but to me, she was easier to navigate because she lacked a filter. What you saw was what you got.

Alistair Wolfe spent most of his life in politics. He’s a renowned hunter on Aplana Island. He knows how to track his prey, how to lure them in, and how to kill with a single blow.

You’d never see it coming, which makes him far more dangerous.

Add in the fact that I’m positive he’s never cared much for me, and I could probably piss myself right now over what I’m about to tell him.

Aurora edges away, her swallow audible.

“Asher.” Alistair rubs his eyes and then drags his hand through his black hair.

“It’s my assumption that you would not bother me in the middle of the night unless something was very wrong, and considering you’ve been attached to my daughter since she popped out of her mother and she’s nowhere to be seen at the moment, I’m inclined to believe it involves her. ”

“And Foxe.” My mouth dries up, trying to keep me from saying the words. “They’re missing.”