The Dark Divine(44)

I dropped the stone pendant. It bounced slightly against his chest. “Daniel? If people like you—these Urbat—still exist, does that mean monsters do, too?”

Daniel turned his head away. “I should go now.” He pulled me up with him as he stood.

My feet felt uneven on the slope of the roof. Daniel steadied me. I didn’t want him to leave. I would have kept him with me all night if I could. But I knew he wouldn’t stay. He wouldn’t answer any more questions tonight.

He helped me through the window and popped the screen back in place. “Good night, Grace.”

“Will I see you again?” I placed my hand on the screen that separated us. “You’re not going to disappear now that your secret identity is blown?”

He put his hand against mine, the thin metal mesh between our skin. “Tomorrow. I’ll be here tomorrow. I told your dad I’d fix the fence.” He made no guarantee beyond that.

“I’ll see you then.”

Daniel pulled his hand away.

“Wait,” I said.

He stopped.

“Thank you. For what you did for my dad … out in the backyard.”

Daniel bit his lip. “You saw that?”

I nodded.

His face colored slightly. “Don’t worry about it, Gracie. Your dad was just feeling the aftereffects of what happened today—thinking he’d lost a son forever.” Daniel stepped backward to the edge of the shingled eve. He sprang up onto his toes. “Lock your window,” he said, and did a backflip dive off the roof.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Such Great Heights





IN BED




I curled up with my comforter and tried to make my brain stop whirling. But I couldn’t stop thinking about Daniel: how it felt to be held in his arms, the exhilaration and freedom of running with him in the woods, what he told me about his ancestors … about himself. But most of all, I couldn’t stop wondering why Daniel hadn’t answered my question about the existence of monsters.

I have to admit I didn’t know much about that sort of thing—monsters, demons, vampires. A lot of people in the parish thought it was a sin to read books or watch movies about such things. My parents limited the shows we were allowed to watch, and I had friends who were banned from reading the Harry Potter books because they supposedly celebrated witchcraft. I always thought that was silly—those things were just make-believe anyway.

At least that’s what I’d believed.

But restrictions didn’t stop people in Rose Crest from talking. I’d always tried to believe that the Markham Street Monster was just some kind of morality tale to scare us kids into behaving. The stories started out as just sightings of some kind of hairy beast on Markham Street. Then people in that part of the city went missing. Mostly shelter guests, prostitutes, and kids who were wasted, so no one seemed all that concerned. That is until their mangled bodies started turning up on Markham about once a month. At least those were the rumors I’d heard when I was a kid. Things closer to Rose Crest weren’t as bad. Mostly dead animals—like my little dog, Daisy, ripped to pieces. Dad had said it was probably just a raccoon from the woods, but I’d always feared something worse. And what if I was right? What if it had been the Markham Street Monster? What if it had been as close as my front yard?

Those strange things had stopped years ago—before Daniel ever left town—but now they were happening again. Maryanne had died from the cold, but her body had been abused like the ones found on Markham Street. Then James went missing … and the blood on the porch. And I couldn’t forget what had happened while I was stranded on Markham Street itself. What might have happened if Daniel hadn’t come along?

Could it really be a coincidence that any of these things started happening again only after Daniel had come home? Could the monster have followed him here? Or maybe he was the one who was tracking it.

Daniel said he’d returned because of art school, but I’d felt there was something more to it. Was this it? Was the Markham Street Monster back? Was Daniel here to protect us from it?





MORNING




I must have fallen asleep eventually, because I was startled awake by a loud thunk outside my bedroom window. I rolled over and looked at the clock: 6:00 a.m. I heard the thunk again, so I stumbled out of bed and went to investigate. It was mostly dark out, but I could still see that the side yard was empty. The thunking continued. It seemed to be coming from the backyard. My legs were so stiff I practically had to slide down the stairs on my butt.

I was in the kitchen when I saw Daniel out in the backyard. He was driving a wood fence post into the frozen dirt—with his bare hands. I couldn’t tell for sure because his back was to me, but it looked like he was holding the post in one hand and then swinging his arm, presumably whacking the top of the post with the butt of his hand. No mallet, or hammer, or any tool was even nearby from what I could tell. He’d probably gotten such an early start so he could do it his way.

I was about to go out and join him when I ran my hand through my hair, and my fingers lodged in a nest of snarls. I watched Daniel take another swing, sinking the post a good three inches into the ground, and I suddenly felt compelled to be cleaned and dressed in something more flattering than my flannel yellow-ducky pj’s.