Monster Control Inc. 2

In which the urban fantasy continues

In case you missed it, MCI 1 is here.

Tyler's smile didn’t waver as he rolled up his sleeves. "Listen, buddy, I don’t know what your problem is, but I’ve got a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, and I’m not afraid to use it."

His voice was calm, almost amused, like he was talking to a drunk at a bar instead of a professional hunter with a knife.

I didn’t care.

I knew what I’d seen. That flicker of something beneath his skin. That unnatural ripple.

"Elise," I growled, ready to explode into action at his first sudden movement. "Step away from him. Now."

She didn’t move. Her eyes were wide, her hands shaking. "You’re insane," she whispered.

Then she sprayed me in the face with mace. It hit me like a flaming baseball bat to the eyes.

One second I was staring down Tyler, silver blade in hand, ready to take him down as the monster I knew he was. The next, Elise's pepper spray hit me square in the face with the force of a firehose.

White-hot agony exploded across my face. My eyes felt like they'd been dipped in molten lead. My skin burned as if I'd fallen face-first into a red-hot barbecue grill. I screamed - actually screamed - something I hadn't done since my first werewolf hunt when I was sixteen.

“AAAAUUUGGH!” I roared, swinging blindly. “You bitch!”

My knife connected with something solid. Tyler howled in pain. Ha! I knew it! Silver burned shifters even worse than it hurt werewolves.

Through the red haze burning my corneas, I saw a blurry human figure clutching its arm. Red blood dripped between fingers that looked... completely normal. Tyler didn’t drop to the ground, change shape, thrash around in a seizure, or shriek like a demon burning in Hell. Instead, he reacted exactly like any other young man who’d been unexpectedly stabbed in the forearm by some lunatic with a knife, by clutching his arm, doubling over, and swearing at me.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

The punch came out of nowhere. Tyler’s fist connected with my jaw with a wet crack that I felt all the way down to my tailbone. I hit the pavement hard, my knife skittering away.

"Call the cops!" Tyler shouted to Elise. His voice sounded genuinely terrified. "This psychopath just stabbed me!"

I rolled onto my side, tears and snot streaming down my face. My eyes felt like someone was rubbing them with sandpaper and lemon juice. Every blink sent fresh waves of agony through my skull.

"Elise..." I croaked, reaching out blindly. "He's... not..."

"What? Not what?" Elise's voice shook with fury. "Not a werewolf? Not a vampire? What the hell is wrong with you, you freak! You're totally insane!"

She kicked me in the side of the head.

The sirens came fast. Too fast to even think about getting up, never mind trying to run away.

---

The cops weren't exactly what I’d call gentle.

"On your stomach! Hands behind your back!"

Rough hands shoved me face-first into the pavement. My still-burning cheek scraped against asphalt. The cuffs bit into my wrists hard enough to draw blood.

"Officer, he just attacked us out of nowhere," Tyler was saying. I could hear the pain in his voice. Real pain. Human pain. "I think he's been stalking Elise."

"That true, kid?" The cop yanked me to my feet.

I tried to blink up at him, but my eyes were still swollen nearly shut. "No. No! He’s got it all wrong! I was protecting her!"

"From what? Lacrosse players?" Another cop snorted. "Damn, your face is good and fucked up. EMS is gonna love this."

But they didn't give me any medical attention. They just threw me in the back of a squad car where I sat in my own misery, face throbbing, burning eyes still leaking like broken faucets, with my hands cuffed so I couldn’t even wipe them.

The booking took forever.

The fluorescent lights of the police station stabbed into my burning eyes like ice picks. Every blink felt like rubbing salt into an open wound. My mugshot must have looked like a horror movie - red, swollen face, puffy slits for eyes, snot dripping from my nose.

"Assault with a deadly weapon," the desk sergeant read off. "That's felony territory, kid."

"Maybe he won't press charges," I croaked hopefully.

The cop laughed. "You stabbed a pre-law student. Trust me, he's pressing charges!"

They took my boots, my belt, even my socks. The holding cell smelled like vomit and despair.

The drunk to my left kept singing "Sweet Caroline" off-key. The meth head across from me alternated between crying and screaming about spiders under his skin. And the big guy in the corner? He kept staring at me as if I was his next meal.

"Mace to the face," the big guy chuckled. His breath smelled like rotten meat. "Bet that stings, don't it?"

I didn't answer. My head ached. My face still felt like it had been dipped in acid. And my pride hurt even worse.

I had been so certain. I had been so sure! And Tyler was just... some guy. Some normal, human guy who liked Elise and didn't deserve getting stabbed in the arm any more than he deserved Elise.

The drunk puked in the corner. The meth head screamed about the spiders again.

So I sat there, humiliated, in pain, and in company that was somehow worse than being alone.

MCI 003