“Used to better places, rich boy?” I ask, reclining on the bed. Cleaver jumps up to curl up beside me.
“You mean me?” Piers asks, walking around my bed to his own. He sets the ice bucket on his bedside table.
“Yeah, you. Any other rich boys in here?”
“Cleaver,” Piers replies with a grin, scooping ice into a cup. He pours some water from his own water bottle into it.
Cleaver lifts his head in response to his name, and I laugh and scratch his ears. “He is a rich boy, isn’t he?”
“You never talk to me like that.” Piers sits on the edge of his bed and takes a swig of water. “You’re always so nice to Cleaver. When did I start to rank lower than a dog, huh?”
“The minute I got him.” I grab Cleaver’s face in my hands. “You’re the most important thing in the world, aren’t you, boy? Yes you are.” I mumble gibberish to him in my baby-voice, and he thumps his tail against the bed happily. I notice it annoys Piers, so I make sure to continue on until even Cleaver is giving me side-eye. I sit up and lean back, gesturing to the hound. “Plus, look at him, Piers. He’s way more handsome than you.”
Piers can’t help but crack a smile.
He reaches over and Cleaver rolls onto his back to allow access to his belly, which Piers rubs enthusiastically. “I can’t deny that. He is the handsomest boy in the world.”
I laugh as I watch him take a turn baby-talking my axehandle hound. He even kneels down on the floor to rub his face near Cleaver’s. They both look so happy … and suddenly, I’m thinking about how I’m going to end it. I’m going to erase Piers’ smile. I’m going to snatch all the glory of this hunt from right under Piers’ nose, and it will totally, completely break him.
I turn over. Cleaver notices my change in attitude and stands up on the bed, pulling himself out of Piers’ reach.
“We should get to sleep,” I say without looking over my shoulder. “Gotta get up early tomorrow.”
“Sure.” I don’t hear Piers move for a few minutes. I just lay there, staring at my phone, until I hear his footsteps walking over to the other side of the bed. I’m sure I’ve confused him with my abrupt change. I can’t start feeling any sort of endearment toward him now—I can’t afford that. I have to focus on breaking him.
Like Helsing said, I can’t let their wickedness go unpunished, even if that makes me wicked too.
Chapter Fifteen
There’s no snow here in Oregon, but it’s insanely cold.
It’s just before noon when we arrive at one of the campground offices dotted around Crater Lake. I have to drive the car up a long, narrow road running between gigantic evergreen trees. We’re not heading to the lake itself, but rather a big swath of forest near it.
The office is just a small wooden cabin with only one window. A sign out front proclaims that it’s closed for the season, but I get the feeling that it’s not a popular spot even when it’s open. There’s a small, beat-up pickup truck parked right next to it, and there’s a light on inside.
Piers starts gathering our things together as I head up to knock on the door. I hear some rustling inside before a thin, gray-bearded man opens the door.
“Closed,” he grunts, immediately trying to shut it in my face.
I raise my eyebrows. His clothes look older than he is. He’s wearing well-worn jeans and flannel, as well as a fleece-lined flannel hat with ear flaps. “We’re not here for fun,” I tell him. “We’re here because of your problem.”
He looks confused for a moment before grunting in recognition. “Monkey problem, you mean.”
“Yes,” I say as Piers sidles up next to me. “Your monkey problem.”
“I mean, I know it’s not a monkey,” he says, stepping back to let
us in. “I’m Henry, by the way.” The cabin inside is warm and cozy. There’s a small reception counter and a fireplace, in front of which are two old wooden chairs bearing faded cushions.
Cleaver trots past me and curls up on the rug in front of the fireplace. Henry raises his eyebrows as he sees him, but says nothing as he slips behind the counter and starts rustling some papers around.
“Got a map of the area,” he tells us. “Marked the places I saw it. Thought it’d be useful.”
“It actually would,” I say. Piers drifts over to Cleaver to scratch his ears. Maybe this hunt won’t drag out after all, and we’ll be the ones heading back early rather than spending weeks on end cooped up in a tent too small for the both of us.
Henry shows us a map of the area with red marks over where he’s seen the agropelter. He also informs us that he’s the groundskeeper of the little campground, which is why he’s here. He keeps glancing over at Cleaver.
“That’s a monster too, right?” he asks.