We Shall Be Monsters Read online

  “Dad!”

  “Anika.” Dravovitch shot upright and backed away from the chair, smoothing his wild hair which resembled a crackling fire with stark-white flames and wispy smoke. “What’s wrong?”

  He wore the same crisp white lab coat with pleated slacks and alligator skin boots that he always did. His bushy eyebrows bounced as he wrung his boney fingers together. His face appeared about forty, but she’d discovered the fact that he was much older, stealing youth with his mad science. At least he shaved off that silly tuft of a beard.

  Anika kept her face stern. “What are you doing to that poor woman?”

  “I, uh…” he stammered, taking a step back. “We were going over some numbers.”

  “You’re making her feel uncomfortable.” Anika took a few steps inside, running a finger along a cabinet as if checking for dust. “Don’t you have sensitivity training around here?”

  As her father paced around the room, muttering through several misogynistic excuses, Anika scanned the tables, counters, and desks for his ledger. She needed a little to go on.

  Hayden straightened her shoulders. Whatever blowback she’d get from this was apparently better than having him drooling on her. Hayden needed information, too. She worked at the lab to find answers of her own. Who knew what they’d do to her if they found out her intentions?

  “Not buying it, Dad. You can’t use your power to take advantage of…” There, on the counter next to a large centrifuge, the ledger shone like a beacon of possibilities.

  “Of what?” he asked.

  Anika scowled. “Of young lady scientists.”

  “Excuse me!” He put his hand on his hips, straightened his back and pouted. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve done nothing inappropriate.”

  “Now, Mr. Dravovitch.” Anika stomped up to him, sticking a finger in his face. His gray wild hair wobbled at the ends as he leaned back. “You’re like forty-five years old. Don’t act like a creep.”

  As he turned toward Hayden, he tightened his lips and his cheeks reddened as he saw his situation anew. Was that worry or regret in his face?

  Anika used the moment to drop her backpack on the counter, blocking his view of the ledger. Cautious, Anika took a trajectory around the room which would have her end up on the other side of the counter, near the ledger.

  She couldn’t see his expression as he faced Hayden. Instead of looking up at him, Hayden stared at her plain white shoes. Shoes Jackie would wear, not a fancy-pants supermodel. In fact, her lab coat was frumpy, her perfect hair was unkempt, her eyes were bloodshot, and her demeanor lacked confidence and poise. Yet, she was still gorgeous.

  Wait.

  Why would she look gorgeous?

  She shouldn’t. Anika took another look. Jackie knew nothing of white chick beauty garbage. She didn’t know or care about looking hot. Hayden was attractive, sure, as a human female specimen, but Anika felt an attraction to Hayden, which grew more intense the longer she spent with her. And Anika wasn’t into girls.

  Wait. Was she?

  No.

  Something else was going on with Hayden. The attraction was a result of Jackie’s father’s experiment. Perhaps when he returned, they’d grill him for answers and find a way to reverse Jackie’s ailment.

  Still, seemed like a nice problem to have.

  When Hayden didn’t look up, Dravovitch paced across the room. “Anika. I think you need to keep your nose out of my business. You are too young to know…”

  He let that hang in the air. Too young to know what?

  Anika maneuvered to the counter, pretending to examine the centrifuge. “I can tell when you need to give a girl a little space.”

  He gawked at Hayden. She looked up at him with puppy dog eyes, and he melted. “Oh no. I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to intrude into your personal space. I had no intention. I… I shall be more conscientious.”

  “Thank you,” Hayden said.

  Why was she being so passive? Hayden was a hot head daredevil, not this weak-willed flower. Then Anika saw it.

  Fear.

  She was afraid of what he could do to her. Anika shivered for her as Hayden straightened and pretended to examine the screen, facing away from him.

  Dravovitch turned toward Anika. “What are you doing here so late? Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

  “I came to visit Blake.” Anika ran a finger across the machinery. She glared at Hayden. Your turn, baby-cakes.

  Behind her father’s back, Hayden shook her head no.

  He turned toward Hayden, and she forced a smile. Anika made a poofing motion with her hands. Hello, diversion time.

  Dravovitch looked at Anika again. She smiled.

  Hayden shrugged her shoulders. What? She had no idea how to create a diversion? She was the hottest creature in the building with some sort of crazy pheromone power and… nothing?

  Anika’s finger was on her phone, ready to snap some photographic evidence. She’d been practicing a little eye-free use of her phone and could text Boulsour without ever looking at the screen. She only needed a few seconds with the ledger.

  Dravovitch sighed. “What do you want, Anika?”

  A dozen ideas skipped through her mind. What does a teenager want from her father? Money? Attention? Discipline?

  “I want you to teach me how to drive,” she blurted out.

  Wow. Where did that come from?

  Did she want him to teach her? Not thinking things out always got her into trouble. Slow it down.

  His arms went stiff at his sides and a crease formed in his forehead. “Absolutely not!”

  After that reaction, she wasn’t about to give up. “Why not? I’m sixteen. Don’t you think I should know how to drive?”

  He put the back of his hand on his forehead and slouched his hip. “There’s no reason for it. You have Boulsour.”

  No reason? She could give him reasons. “I’m a teenager. Your tiny town is completely boring, and perhaps I could make do if I could get around by myself. Boulsour’s great and all, but he kinda freaks everybody out.”

  Boulsour had become Anika’s friend and confidant, despite being mute and her father’s minion. He drove like wildfire, calculated and efficient, burning rapidly across town. He’d saved Anika’s life at least once, maybe more, came barreling whenever she texted him, and was a great listener.

  Dravovitch dropped his hand to his side and fidgeted with his fingers before settling both hands behind his back. “Well, you can’t.”

  Anika was about to lecture on parenting, when his eyebrow skyrocketed.

  “Wait. What’s boring about my town?”

  Careful. Don’t push too hard.

  Hayden’s gaze bounced back and forth between him and Anika.

  “Why can’t I exactly?” Anika gripped the counter with both hands. Come on, Hayden. Where was the distraction? “Am I still a flight risk?”

  He scratched the end of his nose and one eye shifted back and forth repeatedly. Either he was thinking how best to answer, or he was having an aneurysm. Finally, the line in his forehead faded. “I don’t think you need to learn to drive right now. Boulsour can take you anywhere you want to go.”

  Anika flicked her eyes toward Hayden, and her father turned to follow her gaze. She sat in her frumpy lab coat slumped over the desk, her feet at awkward angles.

  A distraction wasn’t that hard. Dravovitch would jump at the chance to help that damsel. Fake a stupid injury already.

  Anika pointed at her own eye. Come on. She faked having something in her eye for emphasis. Anika dropped her hand to the centrifuge before her father turned back. Anika slipped her other hand over the ledger, still hidden behind her backpack.

  “Oh, ouch.” Hayden’s voice was monotone and flat. She jumped to her feet, cupping a hand over her face. Her chair spun around in slow motion as she stood there, gawking at them. “There’s something in my eye.”

  Way to sell it, babe.

  Despite Hayden’s weak-sauce per
formance, Dravovitch sprang into action. “Oh, no. How bad is it? Let me look.”

  “It’s bad.” Hayden kept her hand in place.

  He led her toward the eye-wash station on the far wall. “Are you in pain?”

  Anika whipped open the ledger to the bookmark and scanned the pages. A few formulas lined the one side with notes. She took a pic with her phone. On the other side was a word underlined three times, circled, and crossed out—Xamontarupt. What did that mean?

  Her father turned. Anika slid the ledger back onto the counter.

  “Anika,” he said. “Go fetch the doctor.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Anika huffed around the table, snatched her pack, and stormed out.

  She slammed the door for emphasis.

  And smirked.

  On her way to the lobby, Anika reached into her pocket and, without looking, attempted to text Boulsour for a ride home. Stealth texting might save her one day. Hopefully, her friends would forgive her for abandoning them earlier. Tonight, she had research to do and a plan to form.

  Three plans, actually.

  She had to put an end to the alligator’s rampage.

  Somehow she had to save Blake’s father, who had turned himself into an insect monster and was flying around the country.

  And, ultimately, Anika had to prove to her father that she was worth more to him alive than dead.

  At least now she had something to go on. Two ledger pages might not prove enough, but Blake’s mom had promised more. Something had to give. Time was running out.

  Anika headed for the lobby, but before she could reach the door, a voice called from behind her.

  “Anika,” Margery Soren said with her southern drawl. “May I have a word?”

  The good doctor had tracked her down. Anika eyed the doorway and almost sprinted away from her other half-sister. She could probably get Boulsour to drive away before Margery caught up, but it wasn’t worth it. She’d catch Anika the next visit and demand to know why she’d run from her.

  Dang. Anika could have spat curses after all she’d done to avoid Margery. If she could get out of this in a dozen questions, she’d count it as a win.

  Anika spun around. “Hayden got something in her eye. She needs you right away.”

  Margery walked up, an unmoved smirk on her lips, clipboard and pen in her hands. “I’m sure she can wait a moment. I need to ask you some questions.”

  “I told you everything.” Anika stared at Margery’s short, jet-black hair. “Three times. Four.”

  Of course, she hadn’t told Margery everything, but this game of verbal sparring grew tiresome, and Anika didn’t want another bout. Not now. And why shouldn’t Margery take her at her word? She’d been through a horrific experience and was the hero. That should give Anika a pass.

  “You are a smart young woman,” Margery said. “I’m sure you can help me make a few more connections.”

  Margery was a minefield. Say too much and she was dead. Say too little and she was dead. The doctor was intelligent, for sure, but her tenacity was mind boggling. If she picked enough at the half-truths, she’d uncover everything Anika had to hide. But Anika could play this game as good as anyone. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

  “I can’t figure out how you pulled off your plan in such a short amount of time. You had to lure Blake to the school, who was flying around who knows where. You had to know Victor would be there and get him into position. No one helped you? At all?”

  Tricksy. Anika knew math wasn’t on her side. “What difference does that make?”

  “Well, if you are lying about any part of it, then you are unreliable.”

  “Wasn’t I unreliable to begin with?” Careful. Anika stuffed her hands in her pockets. Minefield.

  Margery folder her arms with her clipboard against her chest and clicked her pen twice. “It was a stupid plan. You had no idea it would work.”

  “Maybe I know boys better than you.” Wow, was that a stretch. Boys? Complete mystery.

  Margery cracked, a thin smile forming on her lips. She brushed hair off of her face. Not even real hair. Margery’s wig was her way of concealing her connection to their father. Her real hair was likely as wild and tenacious as Anika’s.

  Anika was sick of wigs. Everyone pretended to be something they were not. Nothing could be taken at face value. Everything was a lie.

  “We searched Blake’s home,” Margery said. “We couldn’t find any more samples of the formula he used. His father’s whiteboards were wiped clean. We can’t find any evidence of the drug’s creation.”

  “So?”

  “Blake’s mother informed me you were at their home a couple of weeks ago. Blake didn’t happen to show you where he stashed the drugs?”

  Anika shook her head. “No. He didn’t show me where he hid them.” A truth and a lie. The little satchel still held the last of the formula. Anika had hidden it in Blake’s hospital room upstairs, right under their noses.

  Margery frowned, dropping her chin to her clipboard. “If we had those drugs, we could reverse engineer the formula and find a cure for both of them. We could speed up Blake’s recovery immensely.”

  And use the formula for evil.

  “I wish I could help.” Anika shuffled a few more feet towards the lobby. “I want him back on his feet as much as anyone.”

  “If you think of anything,” Margery said, “please come to me.”

  “I will.”

  Okay, that was straight up a lie.

  Margery walked away, one hand holding the clipboard out so she could read it, and the other massaging her forehead. Anika opened the lobby door. Boulsour, her giant, mute racecar-driving friend, smiled back at her. Not smiled exactly. His eyes widened the slightest bit. His lips curved up a half a degree. She skipped through the lobby, waved to Tony, and hustled out into the rainstorm as Boulsour held the door for her.

  Anika had no reason to trust Boulsour. He was her father’s man, for sure, but she thought of him more like the cool uncle, more of a friend than Dravovitch would ever be. Boulsour’s long legs allowed him to reach the Mini Cooper first, and he opened the door for her. The smell of pine welcomed her inside, and she ran a hand through the forest of air fresheners hanging from the ceiling.

  Boulsour squeezed inside the diminutive vehicle, settling into the racing seat he’d installed instead of a front and back seat. He barely fit, but he slammed on the gas as soon as the engine roared to life, and the Mini tore out of the parking lot, smooth and steady.

  Lightning struck the weather spires overhead.

  “Boulsour?”

  He turned toward her.

  “Will you teach me how to drive?”

  His eyes opened wider than she’d ever seen.

  Missy sipped a frothy espresso and ate something she’d pointed at on the menu. Usually, her tactic worked fine, but today’s dish wasn’t quite the delicacy she’d hoped for. Her sister was the French speaker, but Em was currently performing street magic across the piétonne. Em’s black bob wig danced as she bedazzled a group of teenagers with a card trick.

  Em. Missy. Nicknames given to them by Anika’s friend, Billie, and somehow, they stuck. Misty got to keep her name only because she’d stayed home. Two of them leaving Moreau had been their father’s plan to keep them away from Dravovitch’s prying eyes. They told Dad they were practicing street magic on the cobblestone streets, training for their eventual rise to stardom as a single and magnificent stage performer.

  What Dad didn’t know was they were also tracking Jackie’s father, who sat only a few seats away, devouring a slimy plate of escargot.

  They’d followed Mr. Edwards across Germany into France with the help of everything Jackie could get out of him from their few phone conversations and from Linh hacking his email account. He spent some time at the Institut de biologie moléculaire et cellulaire in Strasbourg. But they lost track of him after that until Anika’s single word email—Xamontarupt.

  Turned out it was a c
ity not far away. They traveled a few hours from Strasbourg to the quaint village of Xamontarupt and drove around until they spotted his car. They walked into the pedestrian zone and saw him sitting down outside a cafe. They had no idea what he was doing there.

  He’d met with a few individuals, but no one either of them recognized. Missy had sent stealthy photographs to Linh, but her parents’ experimental facial recognition software had failed to find an affirmative match.

  Em had studied sleight-of-hand tricks as a specialty, although they all learned the basics. Missy was the escape artist. Picking locks wasn’t her first choice, but one of them had to specialize in that area. At some point, they hoped to perfect dropping her into a tank of water, chained up, and have her escape. Missy knew her sisters didn’t want in on that action, because even thinking about it was terrifying.

  Misty, back in Moreau, was the chief large-stage magic performer. Missy missed her, missed the three of them being together. They were a team. Best friends. Someday, they hoped to become a big-ticket magic show, pretending to be a single person so they could pull off otherwise impossible tricks. Sure, it was straight out of The Prestige, but they had a distinct advantage of being identical clones in triplicate instead of ordinary twins.

  Missy took another bite. Too salty.

  Mr. Edwards answered his phone and hung up after a few seconds. He dropped cash on the table as he shuffled off. Missy had already paid, so she dropped her fork and slunk off to the side of the building, signaling to Em. Her sister wrapped up the card trick. The teens tossed a few coins into her hat as she gathered her stuff.

  Missy stuffed her brown-wigged head into her helmet and skipped across the cobblestone to her moped. She started it up and stuffed the Bluetooth earpiece into her ear. Mr. Edwards rushed toward his car parked on the side street. Missy followed at a safe distance, waiting for him to climb into his rental and drive off. She sped after him.

  “Which way?” Em asked through the earpiece.

  “North.”

  The two of them had followed the man across the three towns this way, to a trail of offices with no links they could discover. Linh was working on it. Said she needed more access points.