by Mary Dublin
Tears sprang to her eyes as an awful screeching was added to the chaos. In awkward, desperate movements, the monster was biting and pulling the metal grate to great a hole. It was barely large enough to serve its wide girth, which was evident as it sliced itself while wriggling through.
Groaning, the men raced to shake off their dizziness, scrambling to find their bearings the new darkness.
Discouraged, Sylvia couldn't prevent her spell from fading. She breathed deeply and blinked hard, trying to hold on. Her vision was growing spotty, but she didn't even need to see to know it was futile. The monster was gone. She let go of the magic and felt exhaustion slam into her the next moment. The stream of water ran normal.
His name sprang to her lips naturally. "Jon," she breathed, peering around in the darkness.
She narrowed her eyes in the darkness, delving into her magic again despite the headache pounding in her ears. A short incantation later, a new source of light entered the tunnel: Sylvia's skin took on a cerulean glow. The illumination flickered before latching to her steadily.
Panting, she darted closer to the wall. Her worried gaze raked Jon first, then Cliff. "It was too strong, I couldn't…" She trailed off and shook her head. "Are you okay?"
Swinging his legs off of Cliff's, Jon braced his weight against the damp ground. He raised his head like she was an incoming threat, but made no move to attack. His dark eyes found her hovering form, but they seemed to have difficulty focusing.
"You—your skin is glowing," he remarked with a confused frown. He reached for her again. His fingertips were only a breath away from touching her elbow when a mighty splash drew both their attentions to the left.
Cliff was waist-deep in the foul smelling water, making his way for the torn grate. The distant sounds of the large creature worming it water through the sewers could still be heard in eerie whispers and echoes that traveled through the pipes. He waded right up to the edge and leaned over the platform's edge. Even from where Sylvia was hovering, there was nothing to be seen.
Cliff braced his hand against the grate to fight against the current. He paused there, rubbing his fingers and thumb together. Jon seemed to understand this odd behavior better than her, as he hastily pulled himself to his feet and ducked around her.
"Gasher?" Jon called over.
"One way or another, yeah," Cliff replied. He started to fight his way back diagonally against the current. "'Roided up on the venom, same as the dog."
Crossing her arms, Sylvia looked between the humans. While she was still concerned—they had hit the wall pretty hard—she was quick to focus on Cliff's confirmation that the sewer monster did have a connection with the dog.
Before she could question them, a harsh breath forced its way through her throat. The running spell wasn't powerful, but fighting that current certainly had taken a lot out of her. Jon's look of wonder at her glow was fresh on her mind, her arm tense as if still anticipating his touch, but her dying hold on magic and the burn in her healing wing stole her attention. She fluttered to the stairs and landed on the ground.
"Come and grab this. I-I can't keep this spell up." She gestured to the fallen flashlight, her glow dimming. "What's a gasher?" she added with a frown.
Jon came over and picked up the flashlight. She had to marvel at how quick he seemed to obey her request. Just as quick as a wild dog trained by fairies talented in the magic of wildlife. While Cliff noisily climbed out of the water, Sylvia found all her senses do a quick double take as a massive shape lurched toward her: Jon was reaching for her, yet again. She didn't stop him. His hand was illuminated partly by her own cerulean glow, but that was soon to fade.
"It's a nickname," Jon explained, picking her up more gently than he had the flashlight. "It's draws a little less attention than gabbing about werewolves in public."
"I'm sure you can figure out what inspired the name," Cliff added darkly. Though short of breath and dripping water with every step he took, he strode straight past Jon, leading the race back the way they'd come. "Come on," he bellowed. "We've got to find where that tunnel lets out!"
A yelp lodged in Sylvia's throat when Jon's hand lurched, bringing her closer to his chest. Her heart had already all but stopped—werewolves. The word echoed through her mind even when the boys' steps echoed through the tunnel and she rocked with Jon's movements.
"I… I didn't know they could infect animals," she called up when she found her voice.
"It's not unheard of," Jon answered, splitting his attention between her and the slippery concrete. "Most decent folk who start to turn often try taking out the new bloodlust on pets and other animals in the area."
"That's… good, isn't it?" Sylvia asked tentatively. "I mean, it's better than these gashers attacking humans, right?"
Jon shook his head. "It's only a phase. In the end, they all turn to human blood. They can't help it, once they've been infected long enough."
Huddled close to his chest as she was, she could feel his heart thudding a fearful rhythm, same as hers.
The three of them collectively gasped in the fresh air as they emerged above ground once more. Cliff spat onto the grass, muttering about how this was the first and last time he was diving into a storm drain. Jon caught his breath, leaned up against the side of their navy blue car, parked over some loose shrubbery.
"You sure know how to spice up a monster hunt," Jon quipped, ducking his head to see Sylvia. "Are you alright?"
She averted her gaze from his massive face to give her wing a glance. "I'm recovering," she said with a fair edge to her tone.
It was perfectly normal to be short of breath after scraping up so much magic in a tense situation. Her wing still throbbed straight to her shoulder blade, but the healed hole hadn't torn again from overuse. The only stress that didn't lessen was the realization that the humans hadn't been completely open with her.
"You didn't tell me that there could be werewolves involved in this." Sylvia turned her head back to him sharply. She should have known the anxiety buzzing through her in the presence of the dog and sewer monster was more than plain nervousness. It was a deeper instinct that all fairies possessed. "I thought you and Cliff were just… just hunting feral animals. Not things like this." It drove a chill down her spine to accept that her companions were the kind of hunters that tracked things most humans believed to be made up. She was lucky they hadn't killed her on sight for simply existing.
"Yeah, we've been tailing this one for over a month. Since a couple weeks before we, er… ran into you," Jon said in a rushed voice, glancing over his shoulder at the shambles of low-level apartments nearby. He faced her again with a thoughtful look this time. His eyes narrowed slightly, and Sylvia got the feeling he was trying to read her mind without magic. "I didn't think it would matter to you, what we hunted."
Meeting his eyes for only a moment, Sylvia shifted and looked back at her wing again, reaching to test the soreness of the healed portion. "Animals are just animals," she answered, selecting each word carefully. "But the things… what you kind of hunters hunt are usually worse versions of humans, aren't they? No offense."
She swallowed hard and pulled her hand back, but continued to look anywhere but Jon.
"I wasn't expecting it, that's all," she finished, raising her eyes and blinking away the lightheadedness brought on by the strain of magic. "I'm not backing out, if that's what you're thinking. You need to find that thing from the tunnel before it gets too far."
A brief pause drew out before Jon spoke again, his voice easily passing over her head. "I lost my map down there. We need to double back to the apartment to track where the runoff will lead." A few drops of water plummeted onto his palm around her. They clung to the grooves of his palm like tiny iridescent puddles. "And it's raining," he muttered. "Perfect."
Sylvia held her breath—and even still, her stomach lurched from the simple movement of Jon standing up. Cliff came into view again. He was squinting at the sky while hastily unlocking the driver's side of the c
ar.
"I can't believe this has turned into a giant alligator hunt," he chuckled wearily. Jon shared the sentiment with a quiet laugh, climbing into the passenger's seat without question.
Sylvia held her spot on Jon's palm until the car was in steady motion. She stared at the windshield in quiet fascination for several seconds, watching the wipers swish back and forth across the glass to clear the rainwater. Humans really did think of everything. Snapping out of her intrigue, she flew up and landed on Jon's left shoulder with a short buzz of her wings.
"I think I understand why you do this now," she announced, grabbing Jon's collar to steady herself. "Other humans… just don't know about it."
She paused, struggling to grasp how that could be. After living in a community where everyone knew most everyone's business, it was shocking to think that the true details of threats like the dog or the alligator or werewolves could be unknown to the public.
"I'm used to warriors being known for what they do," she went on. Warriors was technically an outdated term as far as her kind was concerned, seeing as the role had evolved into guard duty once fairies isolated themselves. "They're held in high regard, and everyone respects what they do. But you… no one knows you're saving lives, do they?"
"Every now and again, we'll get a nice thank-you basket." Cliff shrugged from the driver's seat.
"People are better off not knowing, anyway," Jon said in quieter voice. "Seeing stuff like this… it can ruin you for life."
"Wait, back up a second." Cliff began to smile as he turned a corner. Any familiarity Sylvia had for the surrounding streets was muddled by the sheet of gray rain. Cliff stole a look over at her, looking pleased. "Did you just call us warriors? I like the sound of that."
She chuckled. "I like it better than the word hunters, that's for sure. Warriors sound more like protectors than predators." After all, they had been willing to release her once they knew she wasn't a threat to humans. They didn't kill just to kill. "You're fighting monsters to protect your kind," she said, giving Cliff a confirming nod. "After what I've seen, of course you're warriors."
She looked back at the windshield, feeling a tug of guilt. As much as she wanted to believe she'd helped at least a little by slowing down the alligator, she knew she could have done more. Next time, she wouldn't hold back.
Fifteen
Though Sylvia had avoided getting wet during the pursuit of the monstrous alligator, the rain soaked all of them. The entry hall of the apartment soon became a collection of puddles and filthy shoes.
The adrenaline pounding through her veins quieted as Jon carried her further into the modest bedroom. The barrage of rain proved to be a balm that soothed her frayed nerves. It sounded a little more tinny here, rather than the muted batter outside the village. But rain was still rain, no matter where she was.
Stripped down to a t-shirt and jeans, Cliff didn't even touch the shower before opening up his laptop and typing furiously. Sylvia found herself carried closer to the window, still rocking lightly on Jon's shoulder with each of his vast strides.
"Damn, 52nd street is flooded," Jon said, peering out.
"Already?" The other hunter glanced over from the bed, trying to get a glimpse.
"Yeah, it's like a monsoon out there. You got the storm drain map up yet?"
"Working on it," Cliff sing-songed in an impatient tone.
Eyes fixed on the window, Sylvia tried to flex her water-heavy wings as she watched the condensation forming on the other side of the glass before her gaze trailed farther to the street. "Will you even be able to get out there?" she asked, frowning. The car seemed so large and impenetrable, but the storm was beginning to seem even more formidable.
"Not right now," Jon answered. "It'll take a few hours at least for the roads to flush out after the storm."
"Talk about bad timing," Cliff said, his attention still entirely devoted to the slowly-loading screen.
"Hopefully the flood will slow our monster gator down, at least," Jon said, pulling away from the window.
"Hmmph." Cliff sounded skeptical.
Sylvia tightened her grip on Jon's collar as he went still, trying to be subtle in sneaking a glance at her. She understood what he was wrestling over when he curled a hand around her, fingertips inquisitively against her damp skin.
"You mind if I pick you up?" Jon asked softly.
Having been prepared for his fingers to close in on her completely, she blinked in surprise. She supposed his consideration shouldn't have come as a shock anymore. Instead of shying from his touch, she scooted more into his forming grasp.
"I don't mind." His skin warmed right though her clothes, inviting. She smiled wryly. "Can't fly with my wings all wet, anyway."
"Yeah I was wondering about that. You only just healed them yesterday."
The huge fingers around her became less constrictive as Jon moved her in front of his face. His eyes were intense—to say he had a hunter's focus was undeniable. But his touch was gentle as ever. He gingerly pulled at her sleeve, revealing a smear of dark brown across her upper arm. He smoothed his thumb over her toned arm, wiping away the residue. It proved to be nothing more than a splash of mud, and easily came away on his fingertip.
"Your second hunt, and you're not even bleeding yet," Jon remarked. "Impressive."
She scoffed. "Yet? Glad I have something to look forward to." She had been lucky, she couldn't deny that, especially after seeing firsthand what a hunt could do when she healed Jon's leg. Still, there were more ways to hurt than bleed.
Pushing that cynical thought from her mind, Sylvia tugged at her wet shirt. The mounting cold didn't bother her so much as the dampness of the fabric sticking to her skin. She realized with a sinking heart that these were the only clothes she had. If she kept this up, she would ruin them within the week.
"The hunt isn't over yet," she pointed out, leveling her gaze with Jon.
Jon's lofty gaze took on a grim glint. "I know." His reply was barely audible, even to her sensitive ears. A short sigh ruffled her damp hair. "Let's get you cleaned up, at least."
Jon set into motion again. He pushed open the bathroom door and flicked on the little knob by the doorway. Sylvia threw her arms up for a split second, dazed by the sudden warmth of artificial light, but it soon became a welcome change. The depths of the sewer chase felt a little further away.
Jon lowered his hand to the counter, her cue to hop off. He looked around at the curtained off cubicle in the corner, the large bath basin sunk into the corner, and then the smaller basin with faucets. None seemed to please him.
"Too small for that," he mumbled to himself.
Sylvia became a spectator as Jon suddenly became a whirlwind of massive movements. He returned from the kitchen with a glass bowl, and filled it halfway up with warm water. Afloat in it, he set a plastic capful of blue gel.
"We'll have to see about getting you some sort of doll furniture," he said, finally standing back from his handiwork. "But for now, how's that?"
Pressing her fingertips to the outside of the bowl, Sylvia felt the heat rush gently over her skin, coupled by an internal warmth that came from Jon casually insisting to accommodate her. It outmatched whatever chill that threatened to rise from being reminded that she was the size of a doll to him.
A soft smile touched her lips as she looked across the counter at him. "Not bad at all. Thank you." Still, the rim was too high for her to reach at her height. She flexed her wings, feeling them less heavy by the second. Her grin widened bashfully as she looked down, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. "My wings are getting dry enough. I should be able to get in and out on my own, if I try not to get them too wet again."
His eyes trailed down to where her fingers fiddled with the hem of her shirt, teasing a glimpse of her navel.
"Good. Great!" His words were hurried, each phrase bleeding into the next with little pause. "I'll just, uh, I'll leave you to it then."
Jon turned around so fast, he nearly rammed right into the door.
His hand seized the doorknob and swung it open wide. A valiant recovery, but Sylvia glimpsed a fresh flush on his cheeks as he closed the door behind him.
Even after he was gone, Sylvia pressed her lips into a thin line to hold a laugh at bay. She knew without a doubt that her cheeks had gone a little pink as well. Shaking her head with a puff of air, she undressed and spread her clothes on the counter. The room wasn't large by human standards, but was vast enough to a fairy to leave her feeling uncomfortably exposed.
Although her wings felt dry enough, she gave them a few flicks for good measure before ascending a short distance over the counter and lowering herself into the water. An involuntary sigh made her shoulders slump once her feet touched the bottom of the glass. She couldn't imagine how humans managed to produce such warm water without a heating spell.
After soaking up the soothing sensation for a good minute or two, she moved over to pull the floating bottle cap closer.
***
"I think I found the outflow," Cliff announced as Jon returned to the bedroom.
He swiveled the laptop screen where they both could see. A complicated maze of tunnels and pipelines were drawn out in a gridded map. In a separate window, Cliff had a map of the city pulled up.
"We went down here, the manhole near the turnpike ramp," Cliff said, tapping the screen. Jon leaned in closer, tracing the path they'd taken. It hadn't been far. Beyond the grate, the winding tunnels eventually let out alongside many others into a sizeable lake on the edge of town.
Jon referenced the city map and let out a sigh of relief. "There's nothing near there for miles."
"Doesn't look like we'll be hearing about any more isn't gator attacks. Not tonight. I'm starting to think your little girlfriend's bringing us a lucky streak," Cliff confirmed. He shut the laptop and stood. "I'm gonna visit Nate, see if we can get our hands on a little more firepower."