by F. T. Lukens
“Maybe I’m some kind of storm god.”
Astrid huffed a laugh. “Come on, let’s get something to eat before the game.”
“You’re surprisingly chill about all this.”
“Oh, I’m not chill at all. I just have a better poker face than you. And things always look better after a cheeseburger.”
“Truth.”
Bridger spent the hours before the game at a local diner pretending he wasn’t about to urge his almost-boyfriend toward death by breaking up with him. Wow. His life. Who would’ve guessed that answering an ad on Craigslist would lead to this?
A few minutes before kickoff, they left the diner, and Astrid drove them to the game. Homecoming wasn’t played at the regular field, but at the local college stadium to accommodate alumni and the swell of students who attended. Bridger huddled in his hoodie, hands in the front pocket, hood pulled up, as he and Astrid navigated through the crowd and found seats in the bleachers. The rain sputtered and made everything soggy and slippery. Bridger almost bit it climbing the metal stairs, but caught the railing in time.
Astrid grabbed his arm. “I’m so glad I’m not in the Homecoming court,” she said. “Imagine trying to walk in this in heels.”
“Oh, crap, I forgot all about that. Leo has to participate in that at halftime too.” Bridger hid his face in his hands and hunched over.
Astrid patted his back. “And you’ll cheer like everyone else.”
“Yeah,” Bridger rubbed his face.
Astrid elbowed him. “Look up and wave.”
Bridger raised his head. Standing on the sideline across the field was Leo, who looked around anxiously.
“Is he looking for me?”
“I think so.”
Bridger’s throat went tight. He stood and waved his arms and forced a smile when Leo noticed him and enthusiastically waved back.
“He is so into you, it’s gross.”
Bridger sat back down. “Yeah.” He scuffed his shoes on the metal bleacher.
Leo joined the team on the sideline and tugged his helmet on. They did a ritual team thing that involved dancing and shouting and then Midden High took the field. The cheerleaders waved their pom-poms and cried out about being aggressive. The crowd raved and stomped their feet on the bleachers. Beside him, Astrid yelled and clapped her gloved hands.
Bridger was not into it at all.
At the kickoff, Leo was back to receive. He caught the ball to the roar of the crowd, took a few steps, danced around a tackle, and was off, sprinting down the sideline, until he was nailed. The hit was brutal, and Leo’s cleats slipped right out from under him. He faceplanted on the muddy field at the thirty-yard line.
The crowd let out a disappointed noise.
Bridger blinked.
That was… vicious. But Leo stood and shook off the hit, high fived his team, and, the pinnacle of athletic grace, jogged to the line of scrimmage. The crowd clapped and cheered.
Crap, Bridger would’ve laid on the field until carted off. But he didn’t have a medallion given to him by a supernatural helper. They watched the game for a few more plays, cheering in the right places, but Bridger’s mind was on the aftermath—the inevitable heartbreak that waited for him at the end of the game and all that would come after, whatever that would be.
On the muddy field, the team lined up for another play, and Bridger leaned forward, elbows on his knees, watching intently.
The center hiked the ball. The quarterback went back to throw.
Bridger’s backpack rang with the sound of a thousand strangled geese. He lunged for his bag, tuned out the grumble from the crowd around him, and pulled out the mirror. It glowed and vibrated and squawked, and Bridger shoved it in his hoodie pocket. He exchanged a quick glance with Astrid, and then they scrambled for the exit, slipping and sliding their way down the bleachers, miraculously not killing themselves in a freak bleacher accident.
“This way,” Astrid said, tugging Bridger’s sleeve. She led him into a concrete tunnel on the ground level of the stadium next to the bathrooms. They huddled in a dark corner, and Bridger flipped open the compact.
“Pavel,” Bridger said, seeing his boss on the screen. “What’s wrong?”
Pavel wiped familiar green goo from his face and flicked his wrist toward the ground. “Where are you?”
“At the college stadium. Why?”
Pavel gazed into the mirror. “So am I. And so is the underpass troll.”
Chapter 14
“Are you kidding me?” Bridger whispered, harsh and panicked. “Pavel, there are hundreds of people here. There cannot be a troll!”
Pavel stared into the mirror unimpressed. “Do you think I’d be covered in troll spit otherwise?” A glob slid down the side of his nose. Pavel used the sleeve of his horrid coat to wipe it away. The fabric charred; smoke wreathed around Pavel’s head.
“Are you on fire?” Astrid asked, leaning in.
Bridger waved off the question. “Troll spit is acidic and smells awful. And what are we going to do?”
“Meet me in the parking lot.”
In the mirror, behind Pavel, a hulking shape ambled between cars. It was far from human, too tall, too green, too lumbering. Bridger gulped as it stooped to peer around, its large eyes reflecting the light from the mirror.
“Why are you making that face, Bridger? Also, Astrid, you are very pale.”
“Behind you,” Astrid whispered.
Pavel nodded sharply and cast a glance over his shoulder. “Right,” he said. “Hurry!”
Bridger snapped the mirror shut. He and Astrid wasted no time in running for the exit.
This was awful. There were so many people. The crowd was huge. A troll wouldn’t be missed. Astrid and Bridger hurriedly picked their way through the crowd, dodged the influx of people, and slid on the wet track and concrete.
Bridger managed to glance at the scoreboard. The teams were tied at zero, but it was early in the game. Plenty of time left for Leo to shine. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t get the chance to see him play. He was going to be busy negotiating with a troll. Such was his life.
They skidded to the exit and ran past the adults handing out programs, the girls in pretty dresses huddling in a corner of a shelter from the rain waiting for halftime, the alumni streaming in, and fans of the other high school dressed in opposing colors. Bridger fled through the exit arch, squeezed past a metal gate, then stumbled into the massive parking lot.
The lot was huge, easily as large as the field itself, and circled the stadium. In the rain and the twilight, the street lights offered little in the way of illumination. Bridger squinted as he and Astrid ran, scanning the rows of parked cars. They continued away from the stadium, toward a more dimly lit, less crowded area, looking for any signs of supernatural activity, specifically anything charred or smoking.
“Where is he? I don’t see him or the troll.”
“I don’t know,” Bridger said. “I can’t see—” He stopped abruptly, sliding on the wet asphalt as he glanced down. The ground shimmered under his feet and a gleam like oil on water snaked out in front of him—tiny rainbows discernible in the scant moonlight. “Oh, no.”
“What?” Astrid said. “What’s wrong?”
The sound of bells ringing on stone echoed throughout the space.
Astrid grabbed Bridger’s arm and gasped. “Oh, my God.”
The unicorn reared in front of them, brilliant white against the backdrop of the murky sky; its mane flowed behind it, and its horn glistened. Its dark eyes large, it danced on shiny hooves. Magic emanated from the creature in waves and tingled over Bridger’s skin.
“It’s so beautiful,” Astrid said, awed.
Bridger tugged her sleeve. “Run.”
“What?”
Hearing Bridger’s voice, the unicorn swung its head in their direction. It pa
wed the ground, snorted, and lowered its magnificent horn.
“Run!”
It charged, hooves striking against the asphalt in a discordant cacophony, the sound of magic clashing against a human environment. Bridger held on to Astrid’s sweaty hand and pulled her into a row of tightly packed cars, veered sharply out of the path of the unicorn, and barely dodged the pointy end of the rampaging animal.
“I thought you touched it!” Astrid yelled. She ducked between a minivan and a truck, and Bridger threw himself next to her.
“Yeah, I did. But I also offended it.”
“How do you offend a unicorn?”
Bridger didn’t get to answer. The unicorn rammed the minivan, which rocked on two tires. The terrible screech of a horn scraping across metal set Bridger’s teeth on edge. The unicorn assaulted the van; its back legs kicked like pistons. Bridger threw his arms over his head as metal buckled and glass shattered. Shards gathered in the folds of his hoodie and pricked his skin.
The van creaked to the side, and bounced on the tires, and groaned as the back end skittered across the ground, colliding into the truck next to it. Scrambling backward to avoid being pinned, Bridger sucked in a sharp breath and tugged hard on Astrid’s sleeve.
“We need to move.”
On hands and knees, Bridger and Astrid crawled down the middle of a row. The road was rough and slick beneath Bridger’s palms, and his knees scraped along the ground. He had horrible images of dying crushed between pairs of headlights because of a very angry unicorn.
“Bridger?” Astrid said, breathy and panicked. “Your job sucks.”
“I’m aware!”
They reached the end of the row. If they crawled any farther, they’d be in the open and more than likely gored.
“What now?”
Bridger heard the unicorn prancing around the cars, snorting, and whinnying, banging its horn on the backs of vehicles as it searched for them.
“We’re going to call Pavel and scream for help.”
Whipping out the mirror, Bridger flipped it open, but the unicorn leapt onto the back of a coupe and perched precariously, feet stamping the roof and crushing the windshield.
“Shit!”
Astrid screeched. Bridger fell backward and dropped the mirror.
The unicorn neighed.
They barely made it to their feet before the unicorn forced them out of the row and into the open lane: the one place Bridger really didn’t want to be.
He shoved Astrid behind him and threw his hands out to the side. His body didn’t offer much protection, but it was the least he could do after bringing his best friend into this mess.
Holding out a hand in front of him, Bridger addressed the unicorn. “Now, I know we had our differences last time, but it was all for your own protection.”
It teetered on the hood of the car; the metal crumpled beneath its weight.
“I am still unicorn-friendly, again, not for lack of desire, but you know, we could still be friends.”
Bridger and Astrid continued to slowly back away. The muscles beneath the unicorn’s slick coat shifted, and there was a malicious glint in the unicorn’s large eyes. It was going to jump at them. They were going to die.
The buzzer for halftime blew.
The unicorn reared back, startled, slipped off the slick hood of the car and fell.
This time it was Astrid pulling on Bridger and yelling “Run!” They took off for the other end of the parking lot as the unicorn struggled behind them.
“We need to find Pavel.”
“Where’s the mirror?”
Bridger patted down his clothes. “Crap! I must have dropped it.”
“My car is this way.”
Zigzagging through parked cars in an icy drizzle with a troll and a unicorn in the near vicinity was not Bridger’s ideal Friday night. Bridger panted; cloudy puffs framed his face. His sodden hoodie drooped in his eyes and clung to his chilled skin. His hands bled, scraped raw from crawling, and his heart raced.
Where was Pavel?
With luck, Bridger and Astrid made it to her car. She popped open her trunk and rifled through her things. She pulled out her hockey stick and flipped open a car emergency kit.
“Here, take this.” She tossed Bridger a flashlight.
He caught it, barely, his fingers shaking and frozen, and slid it into the front pocket of his hoodie.
“Now what?” Astrid asked, shoving a road flare into her pocket. “We’ve lost the mirror. We don’t know where Pavel is, and any minute that unicorn is going to figure out where we are.”
“I don’t—”
A menacing elk bugle sounded to their right. A howl answered, followed by a screech of a wild cat. An enraged whinny, the stomp of heavy feet, the rattle of a scorpion tail—the noises came one right after another, and Astrid crowded next to Bridger and clutched his arm in both of hers.
Bridger catalogued the sounds—Ozark Howler, Beast of Bladenboro, unicorn, troll, manticore...
“Bridger, we’re in a horror movie.” Astrid held him tighter. “What’s happening?”
“I think this is what Pavel tried to warn me about.”
The bugle was close—closer than the others. Bridger held his breath and listened. At the soft sound of padded feet on the ground, he turned slowly. Behind them, walking on the grassy, shadowed edge near the stadium, almost indiscernible in the darkness with its fur that sucked in the light, was the Ozark Howler. It lifted its snout and sniffed the air. Horns curled at the side of its massive head. Its red eyes burned.
It growled, low and long, as it prowled the darkness.
Another howl rent the air. Wait. The howl came from something else—someone else. Bridger furrowed his brow. A howl—Elena—the Best of Bray Road. She was nearby and she had superior senses, including hearing.
Bridger licked his lips. He gripped the flashlight in his pocket. “Elena!” he yelled. “Help! Elena, we need help!”
“What are you doing?”
The howler growled, its glowing eyes now trained on the pair of them. Its massive tail swished. It crouched, shoulders tensing, like a house cat ready to pounce on a mouse—if the cat was the size of a bear. Its lips pulled back over sharp teeth.
Bridger gripped the flashlight in his frozen fingers.
The howler lunged.
Elena gracefully slid between Bridger and the shaggy beast and bellowed. The howler flinched, pulled back, distracted by the beautiful, terrifying werewolf. Bridger stepped around Elena’s crouched body and shined the light right at the howler’s chest.
It shrieked. Falling to the ground, it writhed and cried, the sound gut-wrenching and pathetic. It backpedaled and turned tail. The shag of its inky fur bled white, and Bridger switched off the light. The howler ran.
“Why did you turn it off?” Astrid asked, her voice almost as shrill as the howler’s whine.
“We’re trying to protect the myths, not hurt them.” Bridger handed her the flashlight. “I think that scared it away.”
Elena spun on her heel, her long brown hair swished, her body was lithe and stunning in the low light. She stood at her full height, plump red lips pursed, perfect eyebrows arched, eyelashes long and curled. She placed her hands on her slim hips.
Bridger went starry-eyed. Stupid attractive werewolf.
“You’re lucky I heard you.” She pulled a mirror from her pocket, and her long nails curled around the clamshell. “Call Pavel please.” The mirror lit up in her hand, and it was immediately answered. “I have the kids,” she said. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Where are you?”
Elena looked around. “In part of this parking lot. Hold on.” She rolled her shoulders and tilted her head back. She howled, deafening and wonderful, and beyond what a human throat should be able to do.
“Got it. Be there in a mo
ment,” Pavel said.
Astrid’s eyes went wide. “That was awesome.”
“Thank you.” Elena smiled, white teeth glowing in the dark.
“My, what big teeth you have,” Bridger said.
Elena snorted. “Don’t bait your rescuer, or I might use them.” She snapped them together.
Astrid giggled.
Bridger huddled in his soaked hoodie and grumbled. “What are you doing around here anyway?”
Elena furrowed her brow and bit her lower lip. “Would you believe that I didn’t mean to? I happened to go for a walk and I was drawn in this direction. I ran into Pavel and the troll. Then I heard you call for help.”
“Lucky us,” Astrid chimed.
A cheer went up from the stadium. Elena tilted her chin. “What’s going on over there?”
“Homecoming game.”
Her soft expression became a leer. “Oh, is the little hero over there?” She tapped her long nails against her mouth. “No wonder you reek of hormones.”
Astrid burst out laughing. For someone who had been chased by a unicorn and almost mauled by a howler, she was unreasonably cheery.
Bridger scowled.
Luckily for Bridger, Pavel jogged up, trench coat flapping behind him, and… speaking of smell. Bridger raised his arm to his nose to block the stench and inhaled stale fabric softener.
“Where have you been?” Bridger asked, voice muffled. “We went looking for you.”
Pavel was out of breath. He bent over, hands on his knees. “Negotiating with the troll.”
“Did it work?”
Pavel shook his head.
“Great, is it going to come after us?” Bridger’s rapid speech went high. “Because we’ve already had two close encounters tonight and I’d rather we didn’t have any more. Though with the weird noises I’ve heard in the past thirty minutes, I’m betting we don’t have a choice.”
Elena rolled her eyes. “Where is it now, Pasha?”
“Heading somewhere else.”
That… wasn’t better. How was that better? “Won’t it get seen? I only saw the shadow of that thing, and it was clearly nonhuman. Lumbering down the highway is just as bad as if it was here. Right?”