Page 94 of Merciless Monster

I get a quick kiss on the cheek before he spots a group of friends and then I become a distant memory. I’m glad he has no idea of the shitstorm raging around us at the moment.

I find it almost impossible to focus at work.

“Man, that bug got ya good, huh?” Julie coos. “Ya look a little green, darlin.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Well, you let me know if ya need to head on home, ya hear?”

“Thanks, Julie. I will.”

I watch the door and listen out for my phone. The man said he’d be contacting me today. My stomach is a mess. I wasn’t able to keep down the eggs and now my gut is screaming and growing like a wildcat in a bag.

“Here, drink this,” Julie says and puts down a mug of coffee on my desk. “It’s strong, but it will get the job done.”

“Thanks.”

Julie wasn’t kidding. The coffee is so strong I’m amazed that the teaspoon didn’t lose its stainless steel coating. But it does the job alright. The caffeine pulls me straight in no time.

“There. Now don’t ya feel better, honey?” Julie smiles after I down the last sip.

“Ready for a marathon,” I smile back.

I tense up when my phone rings. It’s 11 a.m.

“Hello,” I answer hesitantly.

“Mia, it’s Angelo’s teacher. I’m afraid we have a situation.”

My heart sinks into my feet and I immediately break out into a cold sweat.

“What do you mean? What’s wrong? Is Angelo okay?”

“I think you should come to the school immediately.”

“What is it?!” I yell.

“Angelo is missing.”

I drop the phone on the floor. It bounces and lands a few meters away. Julie comes running when she hears my screams.

“What is it?” she implores me.

“I have to go,” is all I can manage.

I don’t stop to answer her questions. All I can think of while I’m running to the car is Angelo out there somewhere, in the hands of Dante’s enemies.

I call my father on the way to school and tell him what’s happened. He’s in as much of a state as I am by the time we meet in the school parking lot.

“Don’t worry, Mia. We’ll find him,” he says and throws his arms around me.

The principal is waiting for us in the lobby. She’s pale. Clearly, this isn;t something anyone in her position is used to.

“I’m so sorry,” the treacher babbles. “He was right there and then he was just gone,” she says through tears.

“Have you called the police?” my father insists.

“Yes, we have. They are on their way.”

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