Chapter Thirty-One Let’s Not Do the Monster Mash
“Where’s he going so fast?” Izzy asks. Again, she doesn’t sound concerned, just mildly curious.
“To get himself in trouble,” I answer as I take off toward the same door Jude disappeared through. I’m vaguely aware of Izzy and Mozart following me at a more sedate pace, but I don’t pay a lot of attention to them. I’m too worried about what trouble Jude’s going to get himself into before I can reach him.
The fact that one of the others is blasting The Weeknd’s “Save Your Tears” from their phone as they get down to work isn’t lost on me, either. I’m pretty sure it should be the theme song of our friendship—or lack thereof, considering it feels like I’ve spent the entire day chasing after the jerk.
What the hell is he even thinking? I know he keeps saying he can handle things, but he doesn’t have a clue what he’s supposed to handle. I mean, what does the guy actually think he’s going to do all alone against a bunch of pissed-off monsters with attitude problems? They hate rain almost as much as ghosts do. I learned that last year…the hard way.
My stomach clenches at the thought of what I’m about to walk into—monster and spirit wise—but I ignore it. Nothing I can do about it at this point besides hope for the best.
Not that the best is ever an option here at Calder Academy. The most we can usually hope for is not the worst. Not only can you count on the worst possible thing to happen here at the worst possible moment, but you can also expect that worst thing to be murderous…or at least dangerous as all fuck. On the plus side, when you go into a situation with expectations that low, anything that isn’t a total shit show feels like a success story.
I make the turn into the stairwell that leads to the dungeon, and my stomach sinks even more. I wasn’t fast enough. Jude has already made his way down the steps into the bowels of the building.
I try to cover up my worry, but Mozart must see it, because she puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Clementine. If he says he’s got it, he’s got it.”
“I’m not worried.” But the lie is barely out of my mouth when a new round of thunder booms overhead, shaking the walls and causing the lone lightbulb in the hallway down below—Uncle Carter must have finally replaced it when he chased down the hydra wannabe earlier—to flicker.
Of course, the storm decides to resume right at this very moment.
As if my thoughts conjured it up, a giant screech sounds from down below. For a second, I think the giant snake monster has gotten loose again, but then I hear the clang of a lock followed by the slam of a door and realize it’s much, much worse.
Jude has actually gone into the cage with the snake monster.
Oh shit.
I speed up, taking the last of the stairs two at a time as I imagine what that thing’s snake fingers could do to him.
Strangle him.
Impale him.
Rip him limb from limb.
On the plus side, the attack from earlier has ensured the ghosts stay gone, but I’m so freaked out about Jude that I barely notice. Instead, I race down the hall, heart pounding and horror twisting inside of me. But by the time I reach the snake monster’s unchained pen, Jude is already sliding back out of it, slow and unconcerned. Like he just fed his favorite puppy instead of a wild, bloodthirsty monster.
“Told you he’d be fine,” Mozart whispers in my ear as she moves to catch up to me. “Jude’s got a way with monsters,” she adds as he walks toward the next pen.
“You couldn’t possibly have fed him that fast,” I tell him as I hustle over. “I didn’t even hear a sound from in there. And I know from personal experience it gets very, very loud when it’s upset.”
Jude gives me a sharp look, one I return with interest until he finally just shrugs. “I didn’t even see it when I went in. It must have been sleeping somewhere in the enclosure.”
“You want me to believe it was sleeping and you just walked in there, dumped a bunch of that damn sparkly kibble, and it didn’t so much as stir?” I know I sound skeptical, but come on. I’ve been stuck dealing with these damn creatures since sophomore year. They change out pretty regularly—my mom gets extra money from boarding monsters short term—and none of them is easy to deal with. None of them.
But Jude just waltzes in like it’s no big deal? Fills up a week’s worth of food and water dishes and waltzes back out? It makes no sense.
“I don’t know if he stirred or not, Satsuma. I didn’t see him. At all.”
I narrow my eyes at the nickname and pretend—even to myself—that I’m annoyed he’s back to calling me random, citrusy names.
“I guess not. But I don’t suggest you try just waltzing in there like that with some of the other monsters, Eleanor Rigby.”
“I’m not worried.” He nods toward the end of the hall. “Why don’t you leave those to me while the three of you deal with the chricklers?”
“You don’t really think I’m going to let you do all these pens alone, do you? We’ll split up—divide and conquer. And then we can all head into the chrickler enclosure together. It’s definitely a job for more than one person. The more the unmerrier.”
Jude doesn’t look impressed, and I realize it’s the first time he’s shown anything but his regular poker face in reference to this job. There’s something going on with him, and I’m bound and determined to figure it out. I don’t have an answer—yet—but if the last few years have taught me anything, it’s that whenever something is up with Jude, I end up getting hurt.
No way am I going to let that happen anymore.
“I have a better idea,” he suggests. “How about a compromise?”
I laugh, though there’s no humor in the sound. “That was my compromise.”
“Okay. Then how about a bet?”
“A bet?” I narrow my eyes. “What kind of bet?”
“I thought I was bad about always having to get my way,” Izzy comments lazily. “But you two have me beat.”
“Jude’s only this way with Clementine,” Mozart tells her.
I want to ask her what she means by that, but I’m too busy staring Jude down—who’s just as busy doing the same to me. Out of eyes that have suddenly gone a myriad of colors. Green and silver, gold and black, all swirled together in the most captivating mix I’ve ever seen.
I blink to break the spell, then hate myself when the corners of his mouth move in what I’m quickly coming to realize is the closest thing to a smile seventeen-year-old Jude can manage.
“I do the next pen alone—and if I come out unscathed, you let me handle the rest while you three take care of the chricklers.”
I turn the bet over in my head, looking for loopholes. As far as I can see, there are none, considering there’s no way he’s coming out of that cage without at least a few scratches on him. I don’t know how he got past the snake thing, but there are two of the creepiest spider monsters I’ve ever seen in there, and there’s no way he can evade them both.
Plus, better to let him get this ridiculous lone ranger routine of his done in there than when he tries to go into some of the other pens…
Still, it doesn’t pay to be too easy—or too eager. “And what happens if I have to come save your ass?”
“You won’t,” he answers, that tiny little smile still playing around the corners of his mouth.
“Of course not,” I agree sarcastically. “But let’s just say I do have to rescue you. Or, even, that you come out a little banged up. What happens then?”
He shrugs. “Then we do the rest of the pens your way.”
“Even the chricklers?”
He grimaces. “Even the damn chricklers.”
“Then you’ve got yourself a deal.” I hold my hand out for a shake, then immediately regret it when his palm slides against mine.
Tiny sparks dance along my skin wherever we touch, and I yank my hand back too soon.
Jude pretends he doesn’t notice, but that’s all it is. Pretense. I can see it in the way his shoulders stiffen and the way he brushes his palm against his jeans a few times, like he’s trying to rub the feeling off.
I get it. I’d do the same if I thought it would actually work.
“Okay, then.” I nod toward the heavy wooden door that stands between the spider monsters and the rest of us. “Guess you’d better get started before the weather gets worse.”
I watch his face closely for some tiny sign of fear, but there’s nothing. No tightening of his mouth, no flicker of his eyelashes, not even a deep breath to steady himself. None of the little tells from his childhood. Just pure, confident man.
It makes me want to change my bet—not because I’m afraid of taking on the chricklers alone, obviously, but because I’m terrified about what will happen to him if he goes into some of these enclosures alone.
But it’s too late now. He’s already unlocking the door and slipping inside.
My stomach clenches as the door closes behind him, and though I’m convinced my poker face is as good as Jude’s, Mozart turns to me right away. “He’ll be fine.”
“You don’t know that.”
She starts to answer, then breaks off with an alarmed, “What are you planning on doing with that thing now?”
I turn around just in time to see Izzy holding on to yet another wicked-looking knife. She doesn’t answer Mozart, just walks over to the nearest door and jams the knife into the bottom of the padlock.
“I’m pretty sure that wasn’t part of the bet,” Mozart tells her warily.
But she just lifts a brow. “I don’t remember agreeing to any bet. And if you think I’m just going to stand around out here and wait for Prince Not So Charming to come back in pieces, you’re more naive than you look.”
She wiggles the knife a little bit, then turns it quickly to the left. The padlock springs open, and so does the door.
“You coming?” she asks, blue eyes wide and not so innocent as she glances over her shoulder at me.
“No way,” I answer, but she’s already slipping through the door into the enclosure, without so much as a beat of hesitation…or any kind of plan on how to tackle the thing waiting for her inside.
Because, apparently, her instinct for self-preservation is about as strong as Jude’s.
I start to follow her, but Mozart steps in front of me. “You sure you want to do that?”
“Obviously not,” I answer. “But I can’t let her go in alone.”
“Fine.” She sighs. “We’ll go in together—”
She breaks off as a haunting scream comes from the spider beast enclosure.
Finally, she looks as worried as I feel.
“Go check on Jude,” I tell her. “I’ve got Izzy.”
She doesn’t look convinced—at least until a long, strange chittering sound follows up the scream.
“Go,” I urge. Then I pull my elbow from her grasp and dive through the open door, just as another blood-chilling scream fills the air around us.