The Curse of Moose Lake (International Monster Slayers Book 1)

by Bethany Helwig

  We reach the restaurant and an airy voice calls my name. “Phoenix! Over here!”

  Celina, a faun with long golden locks and a permanent smile, waves me over to the seating area outside the restaurant. She’s wrapped in a red silk, brocade dress and her crossed hooves stick out from under the table she shares with Doocan the giant. He’s got a bowl the size of a gallon bucket in front of him. He waves his dinner plate-sized hand and gives us a gap-toothed smile before attacking his soup. I take the chair opposite Celina and Hawk plops down beside me.

  “Oh, darling,” Celina coos and reaches across the table to grasp my hands in hers, the soft fur on the edges of her palms like velvet against my skin. Her deer-like ears flick back and forth in agitation. “You two look terrible. What happened? You must tell me everything and not squander a detail to the void.” She waves over Old Man Two. “A couple of bowls of raisin soup for my friends, please!”

  The centaur grumbles something and clomps off into the restaurant. I worked for him a couple of summers ago but you’d think I’m some impolite customer by the indifference he shows me. I heave a sigh and spill the story to Celina. She’s one of the only people I can talk unabashed to apart from Hawk. Celina was the one that took care of us both when we first came to Underground. She’s the closest thing I have to a mother. She listens with rapt attention despite Doocan loudly slurping his soup beside her. My story is eventually interrupted as Old Man Two returns to shrug two bowls of soup onto the table in front of me and Hawk.

  “Thanks,” I say but the centaur ignores me and stalks away.

  “Oh my dears,” Celina sighs. “I’m so sorry. I truly wish there was something I could do for the pair of you.”

  Doocan finally speaks and stares wide-eyed at me. “You discovered the shapeshifter by yourself?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You are smart.”

  “Thanks, Doocan.”

  He stares off into space and doesn’t rejoin the conversation, ignoring us again. None of us take any offense. Tuning out is just something he does.

  “We’ll figure something out,” Celina assures us. “I promise. Hawk, dear, how are you doing? You haven’t spoken a word.”

  Hawk shrugs, then pushes out his chair and walks towards the eastern end of Underground, most likely going to the stadium near the water entrance. I let him go. I know what becoming any agent means to him, what it means to me. With everything that’s happened, I wouldn’t be surprised if he runs a few laps on the track to let it all out.

  I lean back in my chair, blow out an exasperated breath, and stare up at the cement ceiling a long ways up. Celina starts suggesting a slew of other jobs we might try for but they’re mostly custodian work or cooking. My mind wanders as I watch a couple of air sprites that look like child-shaped clouds run across the ceiling and stop at slated vents to circulate the air. Then they’re off chasing each other again.

  When Celina puts a hand on my arm I almost jump. She pulls me up out of my chair and pats Doocan on his forearm to get his attention.

  “Come on,” she prompts. “We haven’t watched a movie together for some time. I heard they’re playing one of those spy movies you love. It’ll be fun.”

  I don’t fight the pull on my arm and allow myself to be led away from the market to the north side of Underground. We grab ourselves a couple bags of smoked paprika popcorn from the nymph vendor outside the entertainment arcade and make for the movie theater. We slip past a group of rowdy elves having a dance off and I almost get stepped on by a centaur trotting down the row carrying rolls of video game tickets. We hurry into the safety of the dark theater and worm between the wide spaced seats to the back right corner. We’re late for the movie tonight. It’s already in the opening credit sequence with ladies dancing in some bizarre flashing color intro.

  I stuff a fistful of popcorn in my mouth and try to focus on the screen. Right now I just want to forget everything that happened today. I wish Hawk were here though.

  I zone out as the hero sneaks into a secret facility in the mountains. I sink into a stupor and the tension in my shoulders begins to ease away. I’ve been coming to watch movies here since Celina first told me everything was going to be all right. She was the one who brought me and Hawk to the theater and showed us the video game room—the fun, semi-normal side of Underground. She shared her love of smoked paprika popcorn and introduced us to Doocan, the friendliest giant you’ll ever meet.

  The movie picks up in pace and the hero uses some crazy gadget to blow open a grate.

  “That’s not possible. That’s not possible . . .” Doocan mutters beside me in a hypnotic-like trance.

  Celina reaches over me to pat his knee. “It’s okay, Doocan. He’s allowed to do these things in his own movie. He’s special.”

  Special—it’s a word people have used to describe me on more than one occasion. I automatically reach for the silver mark under the sleeve of my shirt on my right shoulder. It’s an odd discoloration of the skin in the shape of three fingers trailed down. A mark left by a powerful dragon—the same dragon I suspect rallied for me and Hawk to join the IMS. I’m what they call Blessed—people touched by dragons. The few other Blessed I know can levitate things with their mind, melt metal, or control electricity. All I’ve been able to do is lift heavy things. So much for being special. At least it gives me a free, lifelong pass to Underground.

  I don’t pay much attention to the movie after that. I just nibble at my popcorn. Every time a song plays, even a sad one, Celina gets out of her seat to dance. Fauns are like that. She pulls me up one time and makes me dance with her. Once she sees that my heart isn’t into it she doesn’t do it again. As soon as the movie ends, I leave my friends behind and shuffle back through the arcade, across Merchant Square, and to the apartments on the other side.

  I pass the cement housing for the giants, the fields and forests for the fauns, centaurs, and nymphs, until I reach a row of Roman inspired houses complete with marble columns and balconies. I reach the one in the middle with a red door and step inside. Almost everything inside is made of marble, from the staircase, to the parlor benches, to the columns supporting the apartment complex. Hawk and I share it with other agents on three separate floors but most of them are hardly ever at Underground anymore. I tramp up the winding flight to the top floor and enter our apartment.

  The main living space only has a sofa and one tiny table in the center. I glance out the open balcony to the lights over Merchant Square before turning into the connected kitchen. As usual, there’s a mess of bloody meat wrappers left on the counter. Grumbling, I shove them into the trash and push open the door to Hawk’s room. The inside looks like a couple of air sprites played a game of toss—clothes are scattered all over the floor, there are crumbs spilled from open packets of crackers, and stains of drool mark the rumpled bed sheets. Hawk is already sound asleep on his bed spread out on his stomach, mouth open, a pool of drool forming to create yet another stain. I quietly close the door and slip away to my own room.

  Despite the fact Hawk and I are twins, our rooms are like night and day. Everything in my small square of life is tucked away in its proper place, the bed is made, and not a layer of dust dirties any surface. My coffee-stained blouse and skirt are the only things sitting out at the foot of my dresser, ready to be washed the next day.

  I sit on the edge of my bed and carefully strip off my shirt. The red burn on my shoulder sticks out painfully, just like my wounded pride. I take a deep breath and slip into my pajamas.

  So what if I can’t be an agent? At least I get to stay here in this world that I love. I’ll just never get a badge and be able to protect legends like all the other Blesseds do. I reach for the ripped picture on my nightstand. A happy couple beams up at me clutching onto their two squirrelly, red-haired kids, IMS badges visible on their jackets.

  I set the picture back with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Mom and Dad.”

  Chapter 4

  I’m not sure what to expect after being su
mmoned by Director Knox early the next morning. Hawk and I stand shoulder to shoulder in his office wearing our junior agent uniforms, which are basically just black tactical boots, black pants, a black shirt, and a black fitted jacket with the IMS logo above the heart. They haven’t asked for the clothes back at least. Director Knox is sitting in his chair reading and rereading a memo in his hand. He doesn’t look particularly happy but at least he hasn’t started yelling yet. The clock on his wall ticks loudly like a bomb counting down to detonation.

  “I received a call from the DODA this morning,” he begins, sets the memo down, and temples his fingers together.

  I stand a little straighter. The Department of Dragon Affairs is the secret federal branch in charge of the IMS in the United States. Did we screw up so bad that the head honchos are calling? Do they want to send us to lockup? Or worse, kick us out of Underground?

  Director Knox sighs. “It seems you two have a rather influential friend. They’ve remanded my order from yesterday and are reinstating you as junior agents.” He shakes his head in disappointment. I can’t hear the clock anymore over the thundering of my heart. “However, we’ve all agreed that you need a better mentor than Cobb. You need to experience the real world if you’re going to function properly in it.”

  Oh, no. The last time they wanted me and Hawk to experience “the real world” we were sent to high school along with Witty. Worst three years of my life. Things improved after we got kicked out, though.

  “You will be escorted to the Moose Lake Field Office where you will train under Agent Barnes. I’ve already arranged transportation. You’ll leave in an hour.”

  “Uh, sir?” Hawk raises his hand like he’s in class. “Where exactly is the Moose Lake Field Office?”

  The director studies the watch on his wrist. “It’s roughly two hours north of the Twin Cities. Pack your bags and meet Agent Snow at the top of the chutes. You’re dismissed.”

  We walk as calmly as we can out of headquarters but as soon as we hit the colonnade outside we’re jumping in the air and giving each other high fives before we’re racing to our apartment. Giddy in my relief, I wave to the different shopkeepers in Merchant Square for my hasty goodbye as we rush past them. We are still going to be agents. We are being given a second chance.

  By the time we reach our apartment it begins to sink in that we are also leaving our home. This will be the first time since we were four that we will be living somewhere new. At that thought, I take a few deep breaths to calm myself while I stuff my clothes into a duffel bag. Before any true panic sets in, I hear Hawk flip on some rock song in the living room. The music settles my nerves and I finish packing all my things at a blazing pace.

  I take a turn around the apartment looking for anything I might have missed but realize I’m already set to go. Hawk is still trying to cram the disaster that is his room into a travel bag so I go to stand on the open balcony. The music coming from our apartment is so loud that a group of fauns passing by on the street below stop and dance to the beat. I watch them giggling from the balcony and break out a few moves myself.

  Hawk comes flying out of his room and joins me in a manic, bizarre jive. We’re always a little crazy, especially when it’s just us, and dancing is our expression of happiness. Just as the song stops, a thought pops into my head and I gasp.

  “We have to tell our friends goodbye!” I shout.

  Still laughing, we leap over the couch, turn off the music and race down the marble steps with our bags slung across our backs. We run to the armory first where Witty is working at a computer as usual. It’s hard to feel bad about how unhappy he looks when I feel like there’s a balloon of pure helium expanding in my chest. I’m ready to fly away right then. We promise to call and I give Witty a hug before we’re racing off again.

  We find Celina and Doocan eating around a table at Giant’s Reach. Doocan pulls on a grumpy frown at our news but Celina instantly bursts into tears and starts blubbering about not having anyone to watch movies with. By the time we manage to extricate ourselves from her deathly tight hug, we’re running late. Boots thudding against the cement floor, we burst through the door to the chutes, pass an out-of-breath goodbye to Bernie the guard, and then rise on a platform up to the world above.

  A kindly, balding agent is waiting for us beside a dark SUV. Once our bags are loaded in the back and we each have a bag of smoked paprika popcorn for the road, we pull out of the power park and move onto I-35 on our way north out of the Twin Cities.

  The only city I’ve ever known flashes past me. Cars veer around us, fishing in and out of lanes like a swarm of bees following familiar paths to freedom. The skyscrapers and towers gleam in the morning light but fade away in the distance. Agent Snow navigates the traffic with experienced ease and soon we are flying out of the city. The highway shrinks down one lane at a time until trees close in on either side before giving way to fields, some with cows and horses, others barren and brown.

  I prop my chin up in my hand, brace my elbow against the door of the vehicle, and stare out. We pass a few of the outlying cities until the land rolls on almost uninterrupted except for billboards punctuating the scenery with bright splashes of color. I haven’t been away from the constant babble of Underground or the restlessness of Minneapolis since I was four. The silence surrounding the hum of our SUV is unnerving. Where on earth are we heading?

  Time feels stagnant in the vehicle like we haven’t passed any time at all. Hawk and I start up a game of Monster Snatch, imagining which kind of monster lives at the places we see flickering by and have to say how we’d kill or capture it before the place disappears out of sight. The longer we play the louder we get, shouting things in a big rush trying to capture monsters before old silos and barns disappear behind the trees. Apparently we get too rowdy and Agent Snow yells at us to shut up. Boredom sets in again and we pester him to turn on the radio. I almost want to cover my ears when he cranks it up to some rap song.

  We sit still, clutching our now empty bags of popcorn while being shouted at by an angry rapper about taking someone’s sneakers. When Agent Snow lets out a very loud, relieved sigh, I realize we must have reached our destination but as far as I can tell, there’s nothing actually here. He pulls off the highway and makes a left. A white water tower stands in the distance, the only real marker that we’ve found a town. There’s a hotel and restaurant right off the highway but then we go a ways without seeing anything else. Houses start to pop up, a church, a vacant general store, a police station, until we find the first stoplights.

  I get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach when we enter the main drag, which is more like a pit stop than a city. A lake opens up on our right with a single dock and something that looks more like a stream than a river.

  “Is that Moose Lake?” I shout over the rap music, pointing to the lake now obscured by trees and sparse buildings.

  Agent Snow shakes his head. “No, that’s Moosehead Lake. The real Moose Lake is outside the city of Moose Lake.”

  “Because that makes perfect sense,” Hawk grumbles beside me.

  It takes thirty seconds to reach the halfway point of the city. We pause at the second pair of stoplights and I spot a worn down movie theater near the corner. Instead of it making me feel better, my chest aches. We turn off onto a county road and are quickly out of the city again and into the country. Houses are sporadic and tucked back from the road. Everything just feels so . . . empty.

  Five minutes later and we’re turning onto an even smaller road without a shoulder, back deeper and deeper into swamp and trees. We slow as we reach a gravel driveway on Soldier Road guarded by towering pines that form a wall in either direction fifty feet long. I spot some kind of camera attached to a tree that overlooks the front of the driveway as we pull in. More pines guard the long, bumpy drive, the tires crunching on gravel, until we hit a brown field.

  The driveway circles back around on itself outside a log cabin where we at last come to a stop alongside a truck that�
��s shedding so much rust it’s sitting in a halo of orange flakes. The cabin certainly doesn’t look like much. There’s a stump out front with an axe imbedded in it, a pile of wood beside it, and what appears to be an ancient barn looming behind. There are uneven colors on both roofs, as if someone tried to patch holes with different materials. A wooden fence starts along the back of the cabin and extends into the pines. Some of the posts are rotting and held together by something that looks suspiciously like tape. If we were playing Monster Snatch, I would have guessed a near dead troll lived here and all you would have to do to kill it is tap the side of the cabin and the whole thing would collapse on top of it.

  “Welcome to the Moose Lake Field Office,” Agent Snow announces, gesturing wide with one hand before getting out of the vehicle.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” I say, my stomach dropping into the soles of my feet.

  “Considering how much Director Knox doesn’t like us,” Hawk says, throwing open his door, “This probably is his kind of a joke.”

  We grab our bags and stand outside the cabin as Agent Snow begins digging through a backpack in the hatch of the SUV. He pulls out two cell phones and passes them to us.

  “These are for you. The numbers for IMS headquarters and the landline for this field office are already programmed in. Either you or your supervisor needs to call and report in to headquarters every two days per the director’s orders.”

  I glare at the offered cell phone and shove it into my pocket. Agent Snow doesn’t offer us anything else. “That’s it? No bio-mech guns?”

  He actually laughs. “After what happened at Werevine? I don’t think so. Besides, you aren’t even supposed to carry a handgun until you’re twenty-one out in the real world.”