Page 5 of In the Monster’s Wake (Monsters Amongst Us #1)
J asper was finding it hard to resist his urge to slam his forehead against the kitchen table. He still wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to visit his parents.
Actually, scratch that. He knew why he’d agreed to come. His mother had called, all worried because his father had told her about the fight Jasper had been in the other night. She’d wanted to check in on him, and he hadn’t been able to say no. She worried about him, and he didn’t want her to.
He had a complicated relationship with both of his parents. He wasn’t sure he loved his father or that he ever had. Since he was a child, his father was just another person who’d pushed him into something he disliked. Leroy had been a teacher first, and a father second—or last most of the time.
Jasper’s mother had been more affectionate, but she was submissive to his father.
When Leroy had grumbled about her hugging Jasper too often, she’d stopped.
When Leroy had told her to stop mothering Jasper because he was old enough to take care of himself when Jasper was thirteen, she’d obeyed.
Jasper loved her, but it always felt like she put his father before him, and that wasn’t how things should go when children were involved.
It was too late to change any of that, and Jasper was done hoping she’d put him first eventually.
He tried to have as little contact with his parents as he could, but they were worming their way back into his life, and he had to find a way to stop it.
Visiting them in their home had been a bad idea, but Jasper hadn’t wanted them in his apartment again.
Corey and Kerry didn’t deserve to have their home invaded.
“I’m just saying that you showed everyone that you’re still a hunter, no matter your current status,” Leroy said.
“I’m not a hunter,” Jasper told him. He didn’t look at Leroy but instead kept his focus on his cup of coffee. How quickly could he drink it and get out of there?
“You’ll always be a hunter. It’s in your blood. It’s the family business.”
It’s the family business , Jasper told himself as his father said it out loud. He’d heard this speech so many times that he knew it by heart. Couldn’t his father come up with something fresh and new? Maybe Jasper would be more inclined to come back if he did.
He wouldn’t be. He wanted as little to do with his father as he could. He was the only hunter Jasper had to see regularly, and he was happy about that.
“I don’t care what’s in my blood. I’m not coming back,” he said in a tone he hoped was uncompromising. He was going to scream if Leroy said anything about coming back to the hunters again.
“Maybe you don’t have to be a hunter to work on this,” Jasper’s mother said.
He turned to look at her. She was busy at the stove, which wasn’t new. She was always cooking or baking. Sometimes, Jasper wondered if she used that as an outlet for stress control. He couldn’t imagine how stressed she was, living with his father twenty-four-seven.
“What do you mean?” Leroy asked.
“I don’t think you’ll be able to convince Jasper to come back until he’s ready, but he could still work on this case and find the monster.”
Jasper opened his mouth to tell his mother that he’d never be ready, but it wasn’t worth the fight. It wasn’t like either of his parents would listen to him, anyway.
Jasper expected his father to treat the suggestion like it was ridiculous, but to his surprise and dismay, Leroy seemed to actually think about it. “It’s not a bad idea. Jasper could show the hunters that he still has it, and it’ll make his return easier.”
Leroy never listened, did he? It wasn’t worth the effort. No matter how many times Jasper repeated that he was done with the hunters, his father ignored him.
“What do you think?” his mother asked him.
She was pleading with her gaze. She was trying to keep the peace, and even though saying yes was the last thing Jasper wanted, he also wanted to make his mother happy.
Saying yes would get his father off his back for at least a little while.
He didn’t even have to do anything. He could tell his father that he was working on it, and once Leroy reached the end of his patience, Jasper would explain that he’d done everything he could but hadn’t been able to catch up with the monster.
There was no way he was fighting that thing again.
He’d done so the other night because he’d wanted to save someone, but he wasn’t an idiot.
He wouldn’t be putting himself in that kind of danger a second time.
There was a reason he’d left the hunters—well, several reasons.
He didn’t fancy putting his life in danger again the way he had for years.
He’d managed to survive his years as a hunter with all his limbs attached.
He was keeping them that way, thank you very much.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll look into it, but I’m not making promises. That monster was fast and strong. He would’ve killed me if the hunters hadn’t arrived. Besides, if he’s smart, he’s probably already left town.”
“He hasn’t,” Leroy said.
Jasper didn’t know why his father sounded so convinced of that, but unfortunately, he agreed with him. Whatever the monster was up to, Jasper doubted that he was done.
* * * *
T HE MOST BORING PART of every job was the beginning of it when Archibald and Braith had to gather information.
It meant spending hours sitting at their desk, making phone calls and reading news articles.
It also meant talking to a bunch of people who usually didn’t want to talk to them, which was never fun.
“Kester?” he asked the monster standing in front of him.
She glanced around as if looking for a way to escape. She was twitchy, but Archibald couldn’t tell if it was because of the monster they were talking about or if there was more to it. He didn’t care. He just wanted answers.
She nodded. “You know Kester. He’s the bogeyman.”
Archibald snorted. “We’re monsters. Every one of us is the bogeyman.”
She shook her head. “You don’t understand. There’s us, and then there’s him. He kills because he feels like it. I heard a story once that he killed someone because he didn’t like the color of their shirt.”
To be fair, Archibald sometimes wished he could do the same because some people wore clothes that should never have been made. “And who did you hear that from? Your mother’s cousin’s sister’s best friend?”
She didn’t seem to notice Archibald’s tone. “No, it was my cousin’s boyfriend. He said he was there when it happened.”
And Archibald was the Pope.
He sighed. He needed answers, not stories. Still, there might be something true about this. “What can you tell me about Kester?”
“Nothing.”
“I don’t believe that.”
She shuffled her feet and glanced around again.
Maybe she expected this Kester guy to pop up from behind the mountain of trash bags by the door.
Archibald wished they could’ve talked anywhere but in the alleyway behind a fast-food joint.
The smell alone was enough for him to want to be anywhere but here.
“I’ve heard he has bird feet,” she whispered. “And really long arms that he uses to strangle people and tear them apart. He eats people, too.”
Archibald wasn’t sure anything she was saying was true, but he still took mental notes. It wouldn’t be outlandish to have a monster look the way she described. “So he has fangs?”
“A lot of them.”
“And do you know where we can find this guy?”
She shook her head and took a step back, almost tripping on a soda can. “I’ve never seen him, and I don’t want to. If you see him, you die.”
Archibald sighed. He didn’t think he’d get anything else out of her.
The problem was that this Kester guy sounded like a legend or a story parents told their kids at night to make them behave.
Did he actually exist? If he did, was he responsible for the string of violent murders in their community?
Even if he was, it didn’t mean he’d killed Varken’s daughter.
Archibald supposed it was a place to start. He hoped that Braith had more success than he had, but even if this had all been for nothing, Archibald had other informants. He knew a lot of people and where to go to get answers.
“Thank you,” he told the monster.
She nodded. “I hope you catch him. He’s not a good person.”
He certainly didn’t sound like one. In fact, he sounded terrifying.
That wouldn’t stop Archibald. He regularly dealt with terrifying people.
He knew what he was doing, and even if Kester happened to be incredibly strong and fast, Archibald wasn’t working alone.
He and Braith would find the monster responsible for the death of Varken’s daughter, and just like Varken had paid them to, they’d kill them, whether they were the Kester Archibald had learned about from his informant or not.
Archibald had been paid to take care of the problem, and he would.
He just needed to find out who the problem was.