A Monster Files Wedding Read online

  A Monster Files Wedding

  The Monster Files Book 3.5

  Cate Dean

  Copyright, 2018, 2nd Edition.

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except for use in any review. This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, locales, and events are either pure invention or used fictitiously, and all incidents come from the author’s imagination alone.

  Sign up for Cate’s list: http://catedeanwrites.com/join-my-list/ to learn about new releases.

  Reading order for The Monster Files:

  Book 1 - Alex Finch: Monster Hunter

  Book 2 - Truth and Consequences

  Once Fallen (The Remarkable Life of Zach Wiche Continued)

  Book 3 - Welcome to The Haven

  Finding Grace (The Remarkable Life of Zach Wiche Continued)

  Book 3.5 - A Monster Files Wedding

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  A Monster Files Wedding (The Monster Files)

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  About The Author

  Further Reading: Rosamond's Heart

  Life is out of control.

  Ever since I accepted Sam’s surprise proposal, Mom has gone a little—off the rails. I finally managed to talk her down on most things, but she and Dad both stood firm on one detail. I have to be eighteen to get married.

  Which meant a Christmas wedding. Since my eighteenth birthday was Christmas Eve, and Sam couldn’t wait, I was actually getting married on Christmas Day.

  I must be insane.

  Sam had been smiling pretty much nonstop since I said yes—especially after Dad arranged to have me graduate my senior year midterm. I’m still not sure how he pulled that off, with the deadline long gone. But my dad can be persuasive when he wants, and I was more than a little grateful that I wouldn’t be going back to school after the honeymoon.

  Now, with less than a month until the wedding, my nerves were getting the better of me. Don’t get me wrong—I loved Sam like crazy, but once we were married, the last barrier to intimacy was gone.

  I was terrified that I’d be a disappointment, since technically he was my first boyfriend. My only boyfriend, and the only boy I’d kissed, if you don’t count kissing my pillow.

  Hey, a girl’s got to practice somehow. Stop judging me.

  Where was I? Oh, right—after the wedding. I did my best not to think too much about it. Not easy, especially when I was with Sam. His warm, fresh grass scent, and the feel of his arms around me, spun scenarios through my head that only made me more eager—and more terrified.

  With Mom and my best friend Misty Wiche on the organizing front, and Misty giving me all kinds of newlywed advice, I figured it would be as easy as any wedding could be.

  But, like my life, things did not go as planned.

  One

  I sat in the front window seat at home, staring into space, trying not to think at all, when I saw Mom pull up in the driveway. She had been down at the haven again, spinning her design magic. The McGinty house had already started to transform—at least on the inside. The outside would always stay spooky, to keep out inquisitive neighborhood kids.

  “Alex!” She called for me as soon as she opened the door. “I got the final photos of your wedding dress—oh, there you are.” She walked into the living room and dropped her huge tote bag next to the sofa. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”

  “Yeah.” Just incredibly overwhelmed.

  Mom sat next to me on the window seat, one hand rubbing my back. “Talk to me.”

  “I’m so scared, Mom. What if I’m lousy at the marriage thing? What if I—disappoint Sam?” I needed to talk too much to be embarrassed.

  “You love each other. You’ll find your way, Alex.” She wrapped her arm around my waist and pulled me in. “Your father was my first. My first serious boyfriend, my first real kiss, my first everything.”

  I lifted my head. “Really?”

  “Yes, really.” She smiled, studying the front lawn. “We managed to do just fine.”

  Normally, that would have been too much information, but I was honestly relieved to know that Mom understood.

  “Thanks, Mom.” I snuggled into her embrace, aware that our lives were about to change dramatically. Again. Then her announcement registered. “You have photos of my—dress?”

  This wedding was still hard to wrap my mind around, and I had the feeling it wouldn’t be real until I actually had the dress on.

  “Stay right here.” Mom let go of me and strode over to her tote bag, pulling out a big manila envelope.

  My heart started pounding; this was the most important dress I would wear, ever. I had the designer style it after classic dance dresses, with a fitted bodice and full, calf length skirt. In white velvet. Simple enough—I hope.

  “Come over to the sofa, Alex. We’ll have more room to spread them out here.”

  I joined her on the long sofa, tried not to twist my fingers around each other as she removed the photos from the envelope. She studied the top photo for so long I knew something was horribly wrong.

  “Mom?” She handed the photo to me without a word. I swallowed, braced myself, and turned it over. “Oh,” I whispered. Tears stung my eyes. “It’s perfect.”

  The dress hung on a dress dummy, and was as simple and elegant as I’d prayed it would be when I requested it. The seamstress had added a line of tiny, iridescent buttons on the tight lower sleeve, from wrist to elbow. When Mom handed me a back view of the dress, I saw the same buttons, starting at the low back and ending at the bottom of the v’d bodice.

  With our Southern California winters, she’d chosen a lightweight silk velvet, and it shimmered, catching the light. I couldn’t believe I was going to be wearing that dress.

  “Oh, sweetheart.” Mom wiped her eyes. “It’s absolutely stunning. Sam won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

  That was the plan—dazzle him with the dress, so he didn’t see my nerves. If the reality was as good as the photos, I’d accomplished my goal.

  “I—I love it, Mom.” I looked up at her. “When am I supposed to go in for the fitting?”

  “Tomorrow.” Mom brushed hair off my cheek. Since Misty had started giving me hairstyling lessons—yes, hairstyling, stop laughing—my wild hair has been easier to tame. “I thought you could invite Misty. Her maid of honor dress is ready, and we can have a girl’s day.”

  “Sure.” I could never refuse Mom when she asked for a girl’s day. With a tomboy as a daughter, she’d spent years waiting for just this. “Why don’t you call Misty and invite her.”

  Her eyes lit up, and I knew I’d made the right suggestion. “All right.”

  I managed not to look surprised that she had Misty on speed dial. With all the planning, it made sense. It was just—odd, that my best friend and my mom were phone buddies.

  Misty’s excited shriek could have been heard by my neighbors. I smiled, trying not to dread the outing, because I knew it would end up at the mall—my personal nightmare.

  It was going to be a long day.

  Two

  The fitting was more fun than I thought it would be—and instead of slogging through the mall afterward, Mom took us both for a nice lunch in one of the restaurants lining the beach. I spent most of the meal staring out at the waves, picturing the dress in my head. Picturing how Sam would react when he saw me wearing it.

  “Earth to Alex.” Misty waved her hand in front of my face. “You have your ‘I’m thinking about Sam’ look. He’s going to go nuts when he s
ees you in that dress.”

  “You think so?”

  “Duh.” She smiled, using one of her husband Zach’s favorite responses. It was still hard to believe she was married, and living with a gorgeous, funny, super kind former angel. Yeah, I have interesting friends. “Zach agrees. I showed him the picture your mom emailed me, and his eyes glazed over. You have a winner, Alex. Sam won’t be the only one unable to take his eyes off you.”

  “Thanks, Misty.”

  She reached over and gave me a one-armed hug. “You’re the most beautiful tomboy I know—and you are the only one I know who can pull off that dress. I’ve never seen you dance, but when you walked out of the dressing room, you looked like a dancer.”

  I blushed, smiling at her. There was a reason Misty had never seen me dance; until last year, no one outside my family even knew. I still keep it close, even though I haven’t been to classes since I hurt my ankle last fall. I do have a reputation to keep.

  We finished lunch, and took off our shoes to walk along the beach. It was one of those warm days in Southern California that let you forget it was winter. I lifted my face to the sun, enjoying the moment, and the company. The madness would begin soon enough.

  Mom drove us all back to the house. Misty wanted to try some hairstyles on me, now that she’d seen the dress, and the veil. I knew better than to argue, simply because she’d wear me down until I said yes.

  She dragged me up the stairs, laughing at my resigned expression, and flopped down on my bed. The pile of decorator pillows tumbled to the floor.

  “I still can’t believe you have all these frou frou pillows in your room,” she said.

  “They’re not frou frou. They’re an accent.” And once upon a time, the perfect way to keep Mom from trying to dress me in frou frou. “So, how much am I going to hate this?”

  Misty sat and put her hands on her hips. “I’ll only try three styles. Four, tops.” I obviously didn’t hide my horror well enough. She pushed to her feet and loomed over me. “You won’t die from a hairstyling session, Alex. Even if you think differently.”

  “I just—I’m still not used to thinking of my hair, beyond keeping it off my face.”

  “You can slack once you and Sam are married. He seems to like the way it goes everywhere.” She waved her hand at my offending hair. “But for the wedding, that is so not an option.”

  I sighed, then dragged myself to the desk chair. “Have your way with me.”

  She pulled a hairbrush, a comb, and several bottles of stuff out of her purse. It took the last of my control not to flinch when she moved to me, a brush in one hand, a bottle of something in the other.

  “Relax, Alex. This will be painless. Mostly.”

  She lied.

  The wind and salt air had worked into my hair, creating stubborn tangles and a sticky layer that Misty spent forever brushing out before she even got to the styling part. I clutched the arms of the chair and endured. When my cell phone rang I almost cried in relief.

  “I have to get that. It’s Sam.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Special ringtone? That’s so not like you.”

  “Marrying the most popular boy in school is so not like me, either.” I flashed her a grin and escaped the chair. “But I’m doing it.”

  Her laughter echoed in the bedroom. I smiled as I answered my phone. “Hey, Sam.”

  “Hey, Alex.” His low, deep voice sent a wave of warmth through me. “Can you talk?”

  “Misty is in the middle of torturing me, but I can beg for a reprieve.”

  “Ha, ha,” Misty said. But she set her instruments of torture on the desk and wandered out of the bedroom, giving me privacy without me asking.

  I smiled and gave my attention to Sam. “What’s up?”

  The pause before he answered had my heart pounding. “I got a call from Detective Sampson. A man has been reported missing.” I swallowed, already knowing this was headed in a bad direction. “The detective in charge of the case is blaming it on Henry, the local hermit. But Sampson went to the site of his disappearance, and he told me it has—unusual evidence. He wanted to give me a heads up, in case—”

  “It was one of the residents.” I sank to the edge of the bed. “You don’t think—”

  “No.” Anger edged his voice. “But I want to take a look at the place he was last seen, for any evidence of what might have taken him.”

  “Why does he suspect a monster?”

  Another pause, this one longer. “He said he smelled something—wrong.”

  “Oh.” Detective Joe Sampson was a recently turned Fenris, and still adjusting. After hanging around Fenris for more than a year, I’ve learned that certain senses are enhanced when they are bitten, and it’s not the same for each one of them. According to Jake, who saw him more than we did, the detective’s sense of smell was the most enhanced he had ever seen in a Fenris. “He didn’t recognize it?”

  “Just that it wasn’t human. Can you come with me? I need a more objective eye than I’ll have.”

  “Sure. I just have to be back by dinner.”

  He let out a sigh. “I’ll be glad when you don’t have to be anywhere but with me.”

  “Me, too,” I whispered. God, I loved him.

  “I’ll be over in a half hour. I have some instructions for Louise on the newest arrivals.”

  “Okay. I’ll wait for you on the porch.”

  “I love you, Alex.”

  “I love you back.”

  Misty was standing in the doorway when I ended the call. “Bad news?” I told her, and she sat next to me, hugging herself. “You can’t get involved, Alex.”

  “Sam just wants another set of eyes.” Her raised eyebrows made it obvious that she didn’t believe me. “That’s it, Misty. I promise.”

  She let it go, and stood, picking up the brush to attack my hair again. I moved back to the chair and sat, clutching the arms. What Sam had told me helped block out the pain.

  I was only going to help give a fresh perspective, and that was all.

  I just hoped I could keep my promise.

  ~ ~ ~

  Both Sam and Detective Sampson were waiting for me at the spot where the missing man had last been seen. It was the old public garden, and I wasn’t all that thrilled to come back, considering what had happened the last time I was here.

  Thankfully, this was in a different part of the huge gardens, near the old granite fountain and glass greenhouse. Even better, I had Sam here to help buffer any memories.

  He wrapped his arm around my waist and gave me a soft kiss.

  “Hey,” he said. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I met his clear grey-blue eyes, focused on him. He’d let his hair grow again, and the streaked blonde length brushed his wide shoulders, framing his beautiful face. Yeah, I was a goner. “Just don’t let go of me, and I’ll be more than okay.”

  The smile that always left me melting crossed his face. “Never.”

  Detective Sampson stepped forward and took my hand. “Thanks for coming, Alex. I understand you don’t have happy memories of this place.”

  “No problem.” I looked around, expecting to find some evidence of violence. The tranquil space was the same as I remembered. “How do you know he was taken here?”

  “This.” He led me and Sam to a spot between the fountain and the greenhouse, and I finally saw the obvious marks of a struggle. “The scene’s already been cleared. I want you to walk it, tell me what you see. Alone.” He glanced over at Sam, who nodded without an argument and let me go. Detective Sampson becoming a Fenris had definitely changed their rocky acquaintance. “Don’t project what you think I want to know, Alex. Observe, and point out what catches your attention.”

  I nodded, and slowly walked around the small clearing. Whoever had been taken had fought, but it didn’t look like he’d fought for long. The scuff marks that showed someone being dragged along unwillingly just—disappeared. Like they’d been picked up. From the size and depth of the shoe print, the victim
was big, and obviously strong, since he’d been able to fight as long as he did.

  “He fought his abductor,” I said, walking to the opposite end of the site. “And he looks like he’s tall, maybe six feet. That or he has abnormally large feet.” A muffled laugh from Sam had me smiling. I kept my back to them until I could control it. “The other detective really thought Henry did this?”

  Detective Sampson snorted. “The idiot has one foot out the door. This is his last case, and he’s always had it in for Henry. “What else do you see?”

  “Whoever took him was bigger...” My voice faded as I noticed something on the base of the fountain.

  “Alex?” Sam moved to my side, his hand on the small of my back. It comforted me, and made me feel loved at the same time. “What is it?”

  I crouched, and he followed me. “There.” I pointed at a spot just under the wide basin. A taller person would have missed it. Three deep marks gouged the base. The hard, granite base. “Those marks are fresh. And they weren’t made by a person, much less a seventy-year-old hermit.”

  The familiar fear shot through me as I stared at those gouges.

  There was a new monster in Emmettsville.

  Three

  Detective Sampson stayed behind at the scene, to do some more sniffing. Probably literally.

  Sam followed me home in his SUV. It had been overhauled after Mrs. Hyatt rammed It with her van, but it still bore the scars and scratches of former adventures. He said once he left them as a reminder of how we met, and what we’d been through together.

  He met me at the door of my MG after we pulled into my driveway, then lifted me out of the car and into his arms. I just held on, his warm body so familiar now. I still felt like I had to pinch myself sometimes. How did I get so lucky?

  “I know that wasn’t easy, Alex. Thanks for doing it.” His deep voice rumbled in my ear. I snuggled into his embrace, glad that he had been there with me.

  “Whatever caused those marks is powerful, Sam.” I lifted my head to look at him. “There aren’t any new residents?”