Matt Archer: Monster Hunter (Matt Archer #1) (16 page)

For the next few weeks, I hunted on a regular basis while
Mamie did research on every combination of things she could think of related to
monsters, ancient religions, Peruvian knives and the occult. She dragged me
into her room to discuss it one Saturday afternoon. Everything in Mamie-ville
was crazy neat. Her bed, covered with a bright patchwork quilt, was made to
perfection with hospital corners. She even had the books in her
floor-to-ceiling bookcase arranged alphabetically by author. Sick, really.

“The Incans and pre-Incan tribes in Peru have been making
special knives for ages,” she said. “Metal alloy even. But there’s no mention
of any of them having supernatural properties.”

I shrugged. “I guess that’s not too surprising, right?”

She typed on her laptop. “I’ll keep looking. There has to be
a common thread between the knives and evil spirits here somewhere.”

Once she got her teeth into something, she just didn’t let
go. I had to admire that, even if it was a little funny that she was trying to
outsmart the United States Army.

“Thanks for being in on this with me,” I said. “It’s nice to
have backup inside the house.”

She blushed a little. “I promised Mom I’d help watch out for
you, and I will. It’s just…a little tougher now. But I’m up for it.”

“I know you are.” I left her to her research and wandered
downstairs for a snack.

“Dude, you waiting for a flood or something?” Brent asked.
He had beaten me to snack time and was halfway through a peanut butter
sandwich.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I pulled the milk jug out of
the fridge and joined him at the table. “Quit hogging the bread.”

Brent rolled his eyes and shoved the bread and peanut butter
my way. “Your jeans, stupid. They’re a good inch too short. I can see sock
between the pant leg and your sneakers.” He got up to take a closer look at my
clothes before I could sit to make a sandwich. “And your shirt sleeves barely
reach your wrists.”

He yelled in the direction of the living room, “Mom, you
need to buy Matt some clothes.”

“Nice try, Brent. I already told you I wasn’t going to buy
that leather jacket for you.” Mom walked into the kitchen, shaking her head,
and came face-to-face with me. I was as tall as she was. Her eyes widened. “My
goodness, Matt. I knew you were growing, but...”

She grabbed a green Sharpie from the pen holder, then
marched to the door leading to the mudroom hallway. “Kick off your shoes. Let’s
see how much you’ve grown.”

I bent down to untie my laces, noticing my big toes were
pushing the front of my sneakers. I’d only had these shoes a few months.
Wondering what else we’d find, I followed Mom to the doorway.

Mom always measured us against the doorjamb on our birthdays
and marked down our heights. Brent’s marks were blue, Mamie’s were hot pink,
mine were green. My birthday was still three weeks away, but close enough.

She stood me against the marked up wood. “Feet flat, stand
up tall.”

The pen slid across the crown of my head as she drew a line.
She had me step away. We all stared at the green marks in shock. The difference
between my measurement last year and this year was a little more than five
inches. The funny thing? I’d been to the doctor at the end of September and
they’d checked my height. I’d only grown a half-inch since my last birthday.
All this new growth had come since October—after I found the knife.

I’d grown five inches in just three months?

Mom gave me a once-over. “Good gracious, sweetheart. No
wonder I’ve had to buy so much peanut butter.” She got her purse from the
window seat by the dinner table and handed Brent a credit card. “Why don’t you
take Matt shopping. Don’t spend too much, or you’ll have to take some of it
back.”

I barely heard Brent gripe about having to drive me. Five
inches. I’d never had a big growth spurt like this. Mike would say I was due to
sprout. But maybe it was something else.

Maybe I was evolving, just like the monsters.

Despite his complaining, Brent took me to the mall that
afternoon. We passed my regular stores and headed for where he shopped.

“Dude, you’re five-nine now. I think we’re done with kiddie
clothes.” He looked me up and down. “You gotta stop dressing like a dork. How
do you expect to get a girlfriend wearing nothing but sweatshirts and track
pants?”

I shoved him for calling me a dork. Brent seemed impressed
that I was actually able to move him, but he still shoved me back. “Hey, you
weighed yourself recently?” he asked. “You’ve put on some muscle.”

“What, embarrassed that the ‘dork’ can knock you around?” I
said. He kept staring until I squirmed. “I haven’t weighed myself in a while.
At the doctor’s last fall, I weighed about one-oh-seven.”

At that, Brent threw back his head and laughed.
“One-oh-seven? That’s what girls weigh. C’mon.”

He dragged me over to one of those mall scales, the kind you
feed quarters into, and made me climb on. We watched the numbers tick-tick-tick
upward.

“A buck-forty-five. Not sure how it happened, but you’ve put
on almost forty pounds since then.” Brent reached out and grabbed my bicep.
“Whatever Cruessan is having you do to train is working. Maybe we’ll make you
into a jock yet. Let’s get you some clothes that fit, and see how you look
then.”

Shopping with Brent was weird. He tossed out half the
t-shirts I’d picked, loading me down with polos and sweaters instead. He also
made me try on everything while he flirted with the salesgirl. By the time he
was done with me, I almost didn’t recognize myself in the dressing room mirror,
wearing new jeans and a button-down shirt. I looked a lot older. And I liked
it.

“Thanks, man. This is the first time shopping hasn’t
sucked,” I said, hoisting the shopping bags into the trunk of his Toyota after
we left the mall.

Brent laughed. “That’s ‘cause you go with Mom and she buys
you ‘practical’ clothes. Screw that. Oh, and don’t ever let Mamie help you pick
out an outfit.” He poked a finger at his chest. “She tried to convince me that
I would look good in a sweater with a
dog
on it!”

“That’d get you beaten up,” I said, with an emphatic nod.
“No animal sweaters.”

“No animal sweaters.” Brent punched me in the shoulder and
we drove home.

On Monday, I went to school in my new clothes. Will nodded
in approval at the sight of me in a maroon crewneck sweater and jeans that fit.

“How come you didn’t realize how much you’d grown?” he
asked. “I’ve been watching you stretch since Thanksgiving.”

I shrugged. “Too much on my mind, you know? It’s not like I
didn’t know I was growing. I just didn’t pay attention to my clothes.”

We headed to homeroom. It got a little quiet when I came in;
most of the girls in the class were staring at me and not trying to hide it.
Even Ella did a double-take.

I stood by Mrs. Burns’ desk, ten pairs of eyes trained on
me. The girls were giggling, too—in a good way. Like they were embarrassed
about staring but couldn’t help themselves. I couldn’t decide whether to roll
up my sleeves and flex my biceps for all of them, or run for cover.

Will gave me a little shove toward my seat, whispering,
“Nice entrance.”

“I think I’m going back to sweatshirts and track pants
starting tomorrow.” My skin prickled as the girls turned in their seats to
watch me walk to my desk.

“Oh, no, you aren’t. You’re milking this for all it’s worth.”
Will grinned and left me to the wolves.

“Hey, Matt,” a cheerleader named Sami said. She’d sat to my
right all year, but hadn’t spoken to me before.

“Uh, hi, Sami,” I set my books down on my desk, completely
tongue-tied.

She gave me a slow, flirty smile. “I thought I saw you and
your brother at the mall Saturday. My older sister has the biggest crush on
him. She’s on the drill team, so she goes to all the football games. You know,
maybe the four of us could—”

The bell rang before Sami could finish that thought and Mrs.
Burns came in, barking, “Seats people, let’s go. Enough chit chat. You too, Mr.
Archer.”

Embarrassed, I shrugged at Sami and sat down as fast as I
could. Ella glared at her math book, her mouth set in a thin line. She didn’t
turn around to say hi.

Feeling bold, I tapped her on the shoulder. “Good weekend?”

Her ears turned pink. “It was decent.” She glanced at me.
Her cheeks were as pink as her ears. “I like your sweater.”

Class started, but I hardly heard a word Mrs. Burns said.

Ella liked my sweater.

* * *

“You made a C in science? Matthew!” Mom put on her “stern”
face as she read my semester report card. She sat on the edge of the living
room couch and waved the paper around. “You need to spend a little more time on
your homework, mister.”

I yawned, too exhausted to care. I’d been on two hunts in
the past week alone. Grades were low on the priority list when I had monsters
to kill.

Mamie stood behind the couch, smiling sympathetically. “I’ll
help him study, Mom. Not to worry. We’ll have him to an A in no time.” She
winked. Sometimes I really loved my sister.

“Thanks, sweetie. Matt, I know not having Uncle Mike here is
hard on you. And with your dad gone...” She paused, looking startled to have
mentioned him. “Um, well, the best thing to do is to keep busy. Focus on
school—the time will go by faster.”

Mom went to start dinner and Mamie sat down on the couch
with me. “We have to figure out how to get you more rest. The colonel has you
on a killer pace.”

“Maybe, but people aren’t getting attacked as often,” I
said. “That’s because of me and Will. The Bears know we’re out there hunting.
We’ve taken out six more of them in the last three weeks. Only three to go.”

I stretched. Man, I was wiped from bagging that nine-foot
tall male with extra-mean claws last night. “I know what my problem is in
science. My teacher is a total bore. I fall asleep in class, especially after a
hunt. If you can help me study for tests, I think that’ll be enough.”

“I’ll help you with school, as long as you promise to take
it easy when you can.” Mamie stood. “I hate worrying about you dying from
exhaustion.”

“As opposed to my dying from a paw to the head?” I grinned
at her dismayed expression. “I’m just kidding, Mamie. Will and I haven’t been
given orders for tomorrow yet, so we’re just gonna hang at his house. Have a
lazy Saturday for once.” I yawned again. Lame as it sounded to go to bed before
nine on a Friday, I thought I’d do it anyway.

She patted my shoulder. “Good.”

After an uninterrupted night’s sleep, I spent Saturday
playing
Call of Duty
with Will at his house, hanging around just in case Colonel Black called. He
didn’t, so I left Will’s at five to go home for dinner. I had biked about
halfway there when I spotted a group of guys in Greenhill letter jackets hanging
out on the sidewalk at the edge of Will’s neighborhood. I slowed down to hop
the curb and ride around, but they jumped into the street after me.

“Funny meeting you here, Archer. And you’re all
alone…feeling tough now?” Carter said. He stood four paces back from my bike,
letting the other three guys surround me. Two of them were my scowling buddies
from the gym, Sanders and McCoy. How unsurprising.

“If feeling tough means taking you on, sure. But four on
one…are you really that scared of me?” I glanced at the burly redhead holding
my right handlebar. “Barton, I forgot you were Will’s neighbor. What, you
ladies wait around for me all day?”

Not the smartest thing I could have said, but the whole
situation was stupid.

Barton grabbed the collar of my jacket and yanked me off my
bike. I tumbled to my knees in the slushy street. He stood over me, laughing. I
should’ve been scared. But I wasn’t. Not even a little bit. Rage pulsed through
my veins, soft at first, then getting stronger at the sight of their smirking
faces.

Mike’s voice shouted in my head, telling me to maintain
discipline, but it was drowned out by the rushing in my ears. We weren’t at
school. It was four on one. Nobody in their right minds would blame me. I got
up slowly and Barton looked shocked to see that I was taller than he was.

“Touch me again and I’ll tear you apart,” I growled.

Carter laughed, an ugly sound that ripped the cold air. “I’d
pay real money to see you try. Barton, beat him down.”

Barton must have wised up in the few seconds after I locked
eyes with him. “No, man,” he said, “you wanted Archer. We got him. He’s all
yours.”

Carter turned pale, but he tried to play it off. “Fine by
me.”

He swaggered over and got right in my face. “Jenna had
detention because of you. Mrs. Burns didn’t say crap to you about yelling at
Jenna, but she got punished. All because you wanted to protect that little…”

At that point, Carter made his biggest mistake yet. No way
was I letting him get away with calling Ella
that
name.

I lunged for him, but his friends grabbed my arms to hold me
back. Carter took the opportunity to pop me in the cheek. I let myself go limp.
He got one lick in—he wouldn’t get more.

“Not so tough after all, are you?” Carter cocked his arm
back, fist curled.

In a
multiple attacker situation, you need to catch them off-guard. Fake them out,
make them tangle up. It’s all about controlling the fight. Force them to react
to you.

Lieutenant Johnson had always given me good advice.

Carter threw his punch. I slid to the ground between the
others before he made contact, dragging Barton into my spot. Carter’s fist
slammed into Barton’s nose with a sickening crack and he fell to his knees next
to me, blood pouring through his fingers. “You idiot—you broke my nose!”