The Monster in the Manor: Chapter 27

Note: You get an extra long chapter today!! I hope you enjoy it!

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Peony

Andy talks. And talks. And talks.

I didn’t realize my ex-boyfriend had so much to say. He’s gone on about how I betrayed him, how I’m a thankless whore, how he sacrificed so much for me. How devastated he was when I left, though I know that’s a lie. He wasn’t devastated about his girlfriend leaving him; he was devastated about losing a pet he could use and abuse how he saw fit. Without me, he has nobody left over whom to exert his power, and he needs to feel powerful to be content.

Eventually he grows tired of his rant and sits on the floor of the shack beside me. He does look like he’s gone through hell since I left, with his scraggly hair and patchy beard. I don’t know how I ever found this man attractive. How could I have ever loved someone so cruel on the inside?

Now that I’ve been with Rupert, I can’t stand even looking at Andy. Rupert is mine, all mine. I love him more than I thought I could ever love someone. With his tail and horns and fur—I adore all of it, which makes Andy especially repulsive now that I’ve known what it’s like to be cared for, truly loved, by someone.

Not to mention the kidnapping thing.

“You know, Peony, you owe me.” Andy puts an arm around my shoulders, and I wriggle to get him off, but he won’t let me go. “I took care of you for two years. Gave you a place to live.”

I wish I could spit on him. He didn’t take care of me—he kept me prisoner.

“So tell me about this new sugar daddy. He must be paying you well.” Andy lets out a derisive chuckle. “Driving around in his fancy car, going to the fancy grocery store. You must have the cash to spare.”

Andy’s hand creeps down my side, and shivers erupt across my skin. I think he’s going to grope me, but then it makes its way into the pocket of my peacoat, where my wallet is tucked away. Andy snatches it and pulls it out, and I squirm against the handcuffs.

He opens the wallet, revealing the two twenties and two fives I have tucked in it. I’m cautious about carrying around cash, leaning instead on my new debit card when I need to pay for something.

“Damn it,” Andy hisses. “I thought there’d be more.”

I let out a mocking hum into the tape around my mouth. He scowls, snatching the cash and hurling the wallet to the ground.

Then, suddenly, he sits up straight.

“Wait. I know how to get it.” A big, wicked smile crosses his face. Picking the wallet up again, he pokes through it until he pulls out my debit card. “You’re going to get it for me. Aren’t you?” His hand falls again to the gun in his pocket. I may not know much about guns, but that seems like a pretty stupid place to put one.

I still can’t answer through the duct tape, but I do give him a solid, deadly glare. He wants to get into my bank account, too? Just when I’d saved up the cash to move out on my own, and it’s all going to be taken away again. But maybe if I give him what he wants, he’ll let me go. 

I need to see Rupert again. I wanted to meet Kellen’s boyfriend. I was going to cook that dinner and show off to Stella just how well I’m doing without her help.

Closing my eyes, I finally nod. If that’s all he wants from me, he can have it. No money is worth my blood.

“Thatta girl,” Andy says, thumping my back. He whips a key out of his pocket and unlatches the handcuffs. Yanking me up from my sitting position on the floor, he snaps the handcuffs back on and leads me out of the little shack, back to his truck. He has to lift me up to get me into it, since I can’t climb up on my own, and he makes sure to toss me in like a dog.

Then we’re driving again, and I’m hoping against hope that all he wants is the money. I can’t wind up in a ditch after how hard I worked to get away from him in the first place, I just can’t.

It’s a short trip into Tennysville, and Andy guides the truck into the little gas station on the edge of town. I give him a perplexed look, but he just rolls his eyes.

“ATM,” he says, then leans toward me, peeling up the end of the duct tape around my mouth. “Can’t go inside like that, can we?”

I grit my teeth, because it would be so easy to scream the moment we got inside. But Andy’s all over it, walking around to the passenger seat and removing my handcuffs around my wrists. He helps me down, then stands right behind me, pressing the barrel of his gun into my lower back.

“Ready?” he asks cheerily.

I have nothing to say to him, so I don’t answer as we head inside the gas station. Andy guides me with the gun, keeping it under my hem of my cardigan, toward the ATM in the back.

“Go on. Put it in.” He hands me the wallet with his free hand, and I fish out my debit card. Slipping it into the slot, I enter my pin, then the option screen pops up.

“Show me the balance,” Andy demands, and I do as I’m told, bringing up my total bank account balance: $17,216.

What? That’s way more money than I remember seeing on my pay stubs. It’s the most money I’ve ever had to my name in my life, even back when I worked at the restaurant. Then, I lived paycheck to paycheck just to afford rent in the city.

How did this happen? Did Rupert deposit it along with my paycheck? I wonder if it’s some kind of golden parachute he left for me.

Andy leans close, close enough to whisper in my ear. “Getting rich off this guy, are you? Look at how busy you’ve been. Is he paying you for the sex, too?”

A bitter cold travels down my spine. If Andy thinks Rupert and I are in a relationship… what else might he try to do?

“Get the money out,” Andy says, pushing the barrel harder against me.

Obediently, I push the button to withdraw, then type in 17200.

Sorry, the screen responds. The maximum you can withdraw in a day is $300.

“Fuck!” Andy slams a fist into the ATM. “Damn it!”

“If you break it, you buy it,” the attendant calls out.

Andy ignores him. “Get the money,” he says, nodding at the screen. I hit the withdrawal button and type in 300, then my pin number, and the machine whirrs.

He won’t be happy with just this much, but we’d have to visit dozens of ATMs to empty out my account.

Once I pull the cash out, he snatches it out of my hand, shoving it into his pocket.

“To the truck,” he says, poking me again. “We have another stop to make.”

Back in the cab of the truck, he takes my wallet and takes out my debit card again, looking it over. “Credit union. Hm.” Then he tucks the card away again and puts the truck into drive.

---

Rupert

The video footage is horrifying.

The store manager sits uneasily in his chair as I peer over his shoulder. I’m sure someone’s already called the police on me, but I plan to be long gone before they arrive.

I watch as Peony enters the frame, innocent with her cart full of groceries. A twenty-year-old lorry sits a few parking spaces over as she heads to Kellen’s car.

Then, I see him: a scruffy blond man, tall and ragged, approaches her from the side. Even the manager gasps as the man leaps on Peony, throwing her to the ground.

“Our security team should have caught this,” the manager grouses as the man on the tiny black-and-white screen drags Peony away. I’m bristling all over, my blood far too hot inside my veins as he throws her inside the lorry. 

There’s only one person who would so blatantly target her. This must be her ex-boyfriend, Andy. As I had suspected and feared.

My mane rises high off my neck and shoulders as my fury grows. I long to dig my claws into him and tear his head from his neck the way I would a rabbit. If I got the chance, I would rip out his throat while he still breathed and chew him to pieces.

“Yes,” I growl, “your team should have caught this.”

“Can you make out the license plate from here?” Kellen asks, pulling me out of my haze of red rage. The manager replays the footage, showing when the lorry first arrived in the lot early in the morning.

“He was waiting for her.” I peer closer at the screen, then point. “There. That’s the license plate.”

Ignacio hastily jots it down on his phone as Kellen puts a hand on my shoulder. 

“We should go, Rupert. Before…”

I know. The last thing I need is to get arrested before I can find Peony.

Spinning on my heel, I stalk out of the office past startled employees and customers—all of them gaping, whispering, pointing, recording with their phone cameras. It’s everything I feared about showing myself, but right now, they’re all merely background noise. I can deal with the fallout after Peony’s safe.

“I’m going to call the license plate number in to the cops,” Kellen says as we hurry out of the store, past a crying mother with two children at her side.

“Wow, big doggie,” one of them says as I pass.

As if police can help. It will take them hours to do anything of value, when Peony’s life hangs in the balance right now.

I stalk across the parking lot to Kellen’s abandoned car, searching the area for any sort of clue as to where Andy might have taken her. That’s when the tang of petrol hits me in the nose. I follow it to the spot where Andy’s truck had been parked. 

A pool of fluid sits collected on the asphalt, sheer and reflecting rainbow light. My eyes follow the trail left behind out of the parking lot, back onto the main street.

It hits me like a ton of bricks.

“It’s leaking petrol,” I murmur, mostly to myself. I stoop down, sniffing it, bringing it into my nostrils so deep it burns. “I know how to find her.”

This time, Kellen takes the drivers’ seat so I can keep my window down, leaning my head out to keep the scent of Andy’s vehicle in my nose. We blow through intersections, and I didn’t know Kellen could drive like this. Ignacio lets out a squeak as we round a corner at full speed.

“Sorry,” Kellen calls back to him.

“I’m fine,” Ignacio says. “I’ve never been in a car chase before. It’s kind of exciting.”

I growl low in my throat. Nothing about this is exciting, not while Peony is in danger.

I’m lucky that whatever is leaking from that ancient lorry is distinct from the other smells of the city. We follow it to a small rural highway that leads away from Penn Rock, and the traffic signs all say we’re headed to Tennysville.

“That’s where Peony used to live,” I say, pointing at the sign as we pass.

“Would he be stupid enough to take her back to his home?” asks Kellen. “I’m sure the police have her address in their records.”

“I’ve heard of stupider criminals,” Ignacio pipes up in the back. “There’s a whole TV show about it. And this guy doesn’t seem too bright.”

I have to agree with that. Andy might be a sick bastard, but he’s also clearly an idiot. Which hopefully will make it easier to find him.

We speed past a junction that looks like nothing, but then the smell of the petrol vanishes.

“Back there,” I growl. “Turn around.”

Kellen does what I ask, wheeling the car around at the next intersection, and Ignacio grabs onto the door handle as Kellen zooms back to the tiny dirt road.

My anxiety, which is already sky-high, grows as we descend deeper into the woods. Where did he take her? What is he doing with her, even now? A growl rumbles in my chest.

“Peony is smart,” Kellen says, glancing at me out of the side of his eye. “She’ll be all right, Rupert. I know it.”

He can’t be sure of such a thing. Yes, Peony is intelligent and clever, but her ex-boyfriend? I wouldn’t trust him not to hurt her as far as I can throw his dead body.

We follow the trail a long way before we come to a stop at a tiny shack. The truck is nowhere in sight. I leap out of the car, hoping, praying that Peony is inside, and perhaps that idiot left her out here alone.

I throw open the door, calling out, “Peony!” But there’s nothing inside save for a pair of handcuffs bound to a radiator. 

“Damn it!” I roar as I get to my feet. Her scent is everywhere, that not-lavender smell that makes my heart ache, so I know she was here—and not all that long ago. “Where is she?” I storm back out of the shed, ready to drop onto all fours and take off into the woods searching.

“The tracks!” It’s Ignacio exclaiming behind us, back near the car. He’s still holding his flowers. “Look.”

I race over, and he points down at the lorry’s tracks in the dirt.

“It goes back the way it came,” he says, pointing at the drizzle of petrol leading away from the spot. “It came and then left again.”

I hiss between my teeth. Where is she now, then? How will I tell the difference?

Slamming a foot into the ground, I roar again, my wrath raging even wilder. I need to rip and tear, to slash my way through the brush until I find my Peony. She is mine. Mine!

“Rupert!” Kellen calls out, and I realize I’m on all fours, snarling, ready to leap into the trees. “Rupert, can you hear me?”

I turn to him, ready to attack, but he holds up both hands in surrender.

“Hold it together,” he says in a firm, commanding voice. “If you fall apart right now, we won’t find her. Besides—I have an idea.”

My ear perks at this, and I slow my breathing enough to listen.

“Peony didn’t have a bank account before, so I suggested she open one. We chatted about it, and she used the credit union. I know where it is.”

Credit union? What does that have to do with anything?

“Because,” Kellen continues, opening the door to the car and gesturing for me to get in. “That must be what this guy is after, if he left here. He thought Peony would have money on her, like she did before. But it’s all in her bank account now.”

My mind tries to catch up, as lost in the fog of rage as it is. Bank account. Money. That’s what all this was for?

Money?

I snarl and climb into the car, slamming the door as I squeeze into the passenger seat. Kellen and Ignacio jump in and Kellen starts the engine.

“We’re going to find her,” he says. “I promise.”

---

Peony

As we approach the credit union, I sort through my options. Andy has a gun at my back, and he’s just unhinged enough he might be willing to use it should I to try to ask the teller for help. That puts all of us at risk, and I don’t want to see how that ends.

I could try to send a message, maybe—mouth the words while Andy can't see my face.

As we get out of the truck, and Andy assumes position behind me, I glance around the mostly empty parking lot, looking for what, I don’t even know. Some way to run, to escape.

No. If I want to return to Rupert, I need to survive long enough to get there. And faced with what Andy might do to me, how my life could abruptly end should he press the trigger, I need to play it safe. He can have the money. I don’t want it more than I want my life.

If Andy will let me live—and that’s a rather big if. Even if I get him all the money, what’s to guarantee he’ll release me?

The bastard puts his arm around my waist, his hand with the gun hidden under his jacket. We approach the roped-off waiting line where two other people are up ahead of us.

Andy says nothing to me, but I can feel his breath against my neck as we wait not-so-patiently behind the person in front of us. The line moves forward as another patron approaches the teller. I survey both people behind the counter: a nerdy-looking guy with glasses, and a tall woman with a black jacket and severe brows. I wonder which one we’ll get.

“Don’t get any silly ideas,” Andy whispers to me. “I can hear your mind turning.”

Goosebumps erupt across my arms. If I try to do anything at all besides what I’m supposed to, he’ll notice.

Up ahead, the customer with the nerdy teller finishes, and now it’s our turn. Andy and I walk up together, and I paste on my brightest smile.

“Hi there! I need to withdraw the balance of my account.”

The teller blinks. “Oh, all right.” He taps a key on his keyboard. “What for?”

I didn’t expect this question.

“We’re buying a car,” interjects Andy.

The teller frowns thoughtfully. “Have you thought about one of our loans?”

“No, no, we’re buying it outright.” I grab a pen and click it. The cold, steel tip of the gun worms deeper under my shirt. “What do I need to do?”

The teller pushes up his glasses by the bridge and grabs a slip for me to fill out. I don’t have my account number on me, unfortunately, because I kept everything important in a folder in my drawer back at the mansion, so I hand over my driver’s license. He examines the picture, then my face, and pauses as he studies me. My smile probably looks as stretched and fake as it feels.

The teller looks like he’s about to ask a question, but then he closes his mouth, returns my driver’s license, and starts looking me up in his system.

“You want to withdraw your entire balance, or a specific amount?” he asks for confirmation.

“The entire balance,” Andy says. The teller’s brows crease. I can tell he’s starting to get suspicious.

“Yes, everything,” I reiterate. With an uncertain nod, the man behind the counter opens his drawer and takes out the bills, whispering to himself as he sets aside $1,000, then another $1,000, continuing on until he’s counted out the whole amount. He follows it up with a few smaller bills and change, then slips it all into a rather thick paper envelope.

Before he hands it over, though, he examines me one more time, then his gaze jumps over to Andy. When I don’t speak, holding out my hand for the money, the teller reluctantly hands me the envelope.

Andy guides me with the gun at my back to turn around, and I keep the cash clutched tight as we both say goodbye to the teller. Then we’re walking back out, and I’m praying that Andy lets me go.

“Peony!”

It’s Rupert’s voice. Outside the bank, through the glass doors, an immense monster is headed toward us. Racing toward us, rather, his long legs carrying him two steps at a time.

“What the fuck?” Andy says behind me.

“Let her go!” Rupert hollers as the automatic doors of the credit union open for him. The other people in the bank shout and scream as he steps inside, all seven-plus feet of him.

“Rupert!” I shout. “He has a gun!”

But it’s too late. Andy steps out from behind me, lifts the barrel, and shoots.