Chapter 11
Things did not look better in the morning.
Bridger blearily sat up and raised his hand to block out the morning light streaming through the window. Groggy and confused, Bridger kicked off the blankets—why were there so many?—and looked around.
Oh.
Right.
Close encounter with a terrifying, nightmare-making hag.
He swung his legs over the edge of the couch and stood, then sat right back down—hard. His head spun, and he was weak, as if he had just gotten over a bad case of the flu.
“You’re awake!” Nia greeted, fluttering in.
She carried a tray with a cup of tea, a bottle of pop, and a plate of food—a massive cheeseburger and a pile of fries.
“Elena brought you the food. It smells and looks disgusting, but she assured me that it’s something teenage boys like.” She sat the tray on the table a few feet away.
Bridger’s stomach rumbled.
“What time is it?”
“About two in the afternoon.”
“What?” Bridger scrambled to stand, gripping the arm of the couch for support. “Are you kidding me? What the hell?”
“You were drained. You needed the rest. Don’t worry,” Nia said, waving off his concern. “Elena prowled around Leo’s house during the night to make sure the hag didn’t come back. Astrid brought your things over this morning.”
With coltish legs, Bridger crossed the room to the table and chair. His school bag sat on the floor and he opened it and fished out his phone and his shoes. He had texts from his mother that Astrid had answered as him, stating he was going to sleep at her house because he wasn’t feeling well.
Genius.
Amid the conversation between Astrid as him and his mom, was another text from Astrid to him. Curious, Bridger thumbed it open and found an apology.
I’m sorry. And I missed you too.
He smiled and clutched the phone tighter, relieved. Astrid really was the best, but even with her subterfuge, he still needed to call his mother—after he ate.
Ravenous, he dug into the food, barely taking time to breathe between bites, shoving fries into his mouth, inhaling the cheeseburger. He sucked the soda down, emptying the bottle.
Nia watched, disapproving, but not surprised.
“Humans are disgusting.”
“Are they now?” Elena asked, waltzing in. “I always found them to be quaint.” Pavel followed, and the pair of them couldn’t have looked more different. Elena walked with fierce swinging hips: a flawless runway model perfect in a pair of jeans and a sweater and high heels. Pavel entered with his hands in his pockets, awkward and tired, and far from chic, unless disheveled with dark under-eye circles was the new style. Bridger doubted it.
“How are you two friends?” Bridger asked, around a mouthful.
Elena’s lip curled up in disgust. “Ugh, you’re right, Nia.”
“We’re friends, I wager, the same way you and Astrid are friends.”
Bridger swallowed the last bite. “Fair point.” Finished with the food, Bridger sat back in the chair, feeling infinitely better. “Where’s Bran?”
“Trailing Leo. With Astrid.”
Bridger sputtered. “What?”
Elena crossed the room, settled on the couch, and crossed her legs at the knee. She seemed out of place on the shabby cushions. Pavel pushed open the curtains obscuring the board and revealed the mess of note cards, maps, and newspaper clippings.
“Leo is integral to what is happening with the myth cycles. He’s confirmed to have been in the vicinity of the mermaids, the howler, the unicorn, and now the hag.”
“Yeah, but I was at all those events, too.”
“Yes, but you couldn’t cross the threshold on your own.”
“We don’t know that! I never tried until I came in through the other door.”
Pavel pursed his lips. “The first time I met Leo at the beach, I sensed he was odd. I mistakenly thought it was due to his involvement with the mermaids, but I was wrong. He is indeed a myth. You are not.”
“Ah, poor Bridger is not special,” Elena said with a sharp smile.
“Shove it, Marmaduke.”
“Dog jokes? How pedestrian.”
“I’ve got plenty more where that came from.”
“You should be thanking me. I gave up valuable beauty sleep to sit under your boyfriend’s window and make sure that nasty creature didn’t come back to invade his dreams.” She studied her nails in the light. “I think I may have chipped a nail.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Bridger said, clipped and embarrassed.
“Really? Interesting. Though that doesn’t explain why I heard breathy whispers of your name. Superior hearing has a few drawbacks or benefits, depending on your point of view.”
Bridger’s face heated.
Pavel rolled his eyes.
“Elena, stop. We don’t need to know.”
“I could stand to hear more,” Nia said, hovering over Bridger’s shoulder. “Humans fascinate me.”
“Ugh, stop it.” Bridger swatted the air, and Nia danced out of the way, laughing. “You two suck.”
Elena smirked.
“Anyway,” Pavel said, gesturing at the wall, “I have an inkling, but I need more information. And we don’t have much time. It’s one thing to ask a sasquatch to go home, it’s another when howlers and hags start showing up unwanted. I keep a strict eye on the more dangerous of our world, but it’s harder when they’re moving about and breaking traditions.”
“What kind of information do you need?” Nia asked. “We’ve been through all the books.”
“About Leo specifically.” Pavel leveled his intense gaze at Bridger. “What can you tell us? Anything? About his origins? Where he’s been?”
Bridger squirmed under the scrutiny. “Uh, he moved from Puerto Rico. He moved here the day before the ghost showed up.”
“Yes, we know that.” Pavel pointed to the board. “But why?”
“His dad got a job here. He didn’t want to come, but then he saw the high school sucked at the sports he was good at and he talked with coach on the phone before he moved. Leo said he felt called, as though he could help. He totally has. He’s amazing.”
Pavel’s eyebrows shot up. “What did you say?”
“He’s amazing?”
“No. He was called?”
“Yeah, he said that. He’s pretty much the personification of kindness and selflessness and beauty.”
Nia’s wings fluttered violently; purple sparks rained on Bridger’s head. Pavel gave her a look, and she flew off, a trail of glitter behind her.
“What else?”
“Um… He likes football? And the team and the coach. He says coach is a great mentor. Oh, and because of Leo, our team has a shot at going to the state tournament.”
“And he saved you from the mermaids.”
“You saved me from the mermaids,” Bridger said.
“He came with me, and I wager, if I didn’t show up, he would’ve gone back in after you.”
Nia flew back in, carrying the massive book from the library. She dropped it on the table, which rattled the tray and sent the plate to the rug. Bridger was thankful he held his tea, or it would’ve ended up on the floor. Nia held out her tiny hand. The book flopped open, and the pages flipped furiously.
Pavel paced in front of the board.
“Turn it to hag.”
The pages suddenly stopped, and, in sprawling script, Bridger made out the word ‘hag’ followed by two pages. The information in Bridger’s book was condensed into a paragraph with notes crammed into margins and footnotes. This book was fat and huge and definitive. Bridger had a field guide. This was a compendium.
Fingers steepled, Elena sat forward. “What are you thinking, Pasha?”
Yeah, what was Pavel thinking? Leo wasn’t a hag. He didn’t look like one or smell like one unless he could hide that. How could he hide that? He couldn’t. There’s no way. Bridger would remember that stench for the rest of his life—and the image of her bones visible through desiccated flesh.
Bridger squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, which only slightly hitched. He drank more tea.
“Hags are more than nightmares. In certain myths, they are helpers. They appear to designated individuals to help them on a quest, usually giving them an artifact or a purpose.”
“Well, that’s not why she was there,” Bridger said, opening his eyes. “Was it?”
“What did she say to you?”
“I impeded her.”
“You stood in her way and impeded her path to Leo.”
Bridger sat up. “What are you implying, Pavel?”
Pavel sighed. He ran a hand through his dark hair. “Leo is a hero.”
Nia gasped. Elena’s hand flew to her mouth.
“Yeah, we all know he’s a hero. That’s his nickname at school. Leo the hero. That’s not a secret.”
“No,” Pavel said, shaking his head. He nodded to Nia, and the pages of the book flipped again. “He’s a hero.”
Bridger’s gaze dropped to the book and in the same script, at the top of a page, was the word Hero.
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Heroes don’t last long.” Nia fluttered closer to Bridger, her expression one of sorrow. “Think Achilles and King Arthur.”
Bridger furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand.”
“I think I’m going to leave for this part,” Elena said, standing. She brushed past Pavel; her hand trailed over his shoulders. “I’ll go check in on the others. I’ll talk to you later, Pasha. Bye, Nia. Bridger.”
Bridger set his tea on the ground and squared his shoulders. “Why is everyone acting like someone died?”
Pavel poorly hid a wince. Nia sat on the edge of the table, the tips of her wings sagged slightly, and the only word Bridger could use to describe the look she gave him was pitying.
“Every myth has a cycle.” Pavel walked closer and trailed his fingertips over the edge of the tome. “For a hero, the cycle has been studied quite extensively, and we know the basic stages and trials a hero must go through to complete his journey.” Pavel flipped the delicate page; the vellum whispering over to reveal an annotated circle with text notes and illustrations. The heading was The Hero Cycle. Bridger leaned closer and squinted and made out the first few notes—“the call” and “the refusal.”
That matched. Leo said he was called to move, but he didn’t want to at first and refused. The next two stages mentioned supernatural aid and finding a mentor.
“Okay, so he was called and he refused. Where’s the supernatural aid?”
Pavel arched an eyebrow. “The gift of the St. Christopher medal. It’s a gift of protection.”
Leo had recounted the story to Pavel. Then finding a mentor—the football coach—whom Leo said he looked up to.
Bridger swallowed. His gaze continued around the cycle and noted “temptation” as the next stage and, at the bottom of the circle, in dark ink, written large and imposing—“Death.”
Bridger stood up quickly. His knee knocked into the table and he stepped away, hands up, trembling.
“Death?”
Pavel nodded, expression grim. “Though not every hero experiences every stage… death is inevitable.”
Aghast, Bridger stepped back until his shoulder blades hit the opposite wall. Blood drained from his head, and he pressed his hands against the plaster to keep from falling.
“Explain.”
“Death could be real or metaphorical. Arthur was mortally wounded at Camlann and awaits in Avalon for the moment of his return—when Britain needs him most. His story doesn’t have a resurrection or rebirth stage yet—though we’re hopeful. But Psyche traveled to the underworld and returned, resurrected by Cupid, and obtained divinity,” Pavel said, voice calm. “Achilles rests in the Happy Isles with several other heroes, alive and well in another realm.”
Bridger shook his head. “Those examples suck.”
Pavel cocked his head.
“Because they’re all still death! That means Leo would be in another realm, away from here, away from me.”
“Those are only a few cases,” Nia said, fluttering into the air. “In many others the hero experiences a metaphorical death and emerges from the loss better than before. Resurrection or rebirth is the next stage.”
“But we don’t know for Leo,” Bridger said.
Nia looked away, shoulders falling. “No. We don’t know for Leo. For some myths death is the end of the story.”
“And the appearance of the howler doesn’t swing the pendulum in favor of metaphorical death either.”
Bridger ached all over. His body was cold and empty, his stomach dropped to his toes, and it wasn’t because of the night before. He couldn’t handle the thought of Leo… he didn’t even want to think it. He didn’t want to broach it at all. No. No. This was not happening. This was not going to happen.
“This is bullshit!”
Pavel sighed. He rubbed his fingers over his eyes. “Bridger,” he said, his tone a touch admonishing, but Bridger didn’t let him finish.
“No. You’re wrong about this.” Pavel and Nia were right. Everything lined up. “You have to be wrong.”
“Pasha,” Nia said, walking lightly over the pages, “this doesn’t explain our problem. Why are the rest of us out of our cycles because of one young hero?”
Bridger latched onto to Nia’s question like a drowning man clutching an emergency float.
“Yeah! That doesn’t explain why the other myths are out of whack. Leo being a hero doesn’t explain that. His status means nothing.”
Pavel threw out his arms. “Yes, it does! He’s stuck and it’s because of you.” Pavel pointed right at the word “temptation” and leveled his gaze on Bridger.
Bridger’s throat went dry. Temptation. Temptation. Oh, no.
“I’m…?”
Pavel nodded.
“How do you…?”
“If we assume the hag was not there to steal power and breath from dreams, but there as a guide to Leo, then we can also assume she was there to spur Leo forward. He’s halted in his progress. His first four steps happened before he left his home in Puerto Rico, but he crossed the threshold when he moved here and has not progressed since.”
“I’m the temptation?” Bridger laughed. Saying it out loud was absurd. He wasn’t a temptation. He couldn’t be… he was so… him. But… he had been conflicted and he had almost kissed Leo and then pulled away. In truth, they had danced around each other for a while now, and Leo admitted that he’d liked Bridger since the first day of senior year. Oh. Oh, no. “To summarize—Leo is a hero and he is on a quest that follows this—” Bridger gestured toward the book “—circular path thing. But he’s stuck in the temptation stage because of me and since he hasn’t moved forward in months, that’s throwing the other myths out of whack?”
“Essentially, yes,” Pavel said with a shrug.
“That is literally the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“It may be unorthodox, but it’s the truth. It’s what is happening. And we need to fix it. We need to move Leo along in the cycle.”
“Toward death? You want to move toward death? That’s cold, even for you.”
“It’s what has to happen, Bridger. Or we risk the existence of an entire world because of one boy. Leo has to progress in the cycle. If that means death, then that’s what it means.”
“No, no.” Bridger jabbed his finger in Pavel’s direction. “Grandma Alice said you didn’t know everything. And you admit you don’t know everything because of your inexperience. So no. No. You’re wrong.”
Pavel rubbed his eyes. “Bridger—”
“No, this is bullshit! You’re so full of crap. That book is wrong.”
“It’s not wrong. It’s thousands of years of knowledge. You can’t refute it and you can’t change it.”
“No, I… I’m going to do something. Leo isn’t going to die. He can’t. He’s my friend and he’s the best person. And… he likes me.”
“I know you’re upset.”
“Understatement!” Bridger’s chest heaved. “I’m… I’m… I don’t have the words for what I am right now.”
Pavel frowned. “You’ve had a trying few days. You need to go home and rest.”
“Why? Trying to get rid of me? What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to do my job and protect the myths.”
“You’re going to unstick him? You’re going to kill him?”
Pavel put his hands in his pockets and wouldn’t meet Bridger’s gaze. “I’m going to do what I have to.”
“Or are you going to kill me? Remove the temptation?”
Pavel’s head snapped up. “I would never.”
“Oh, so killing me is too far, but you would kill Leo. You’d kill a teenager. Someone with their whole life ahead of them. You’d go that far. You’d protect monsters over a hero. Worse, you’d turn yourself into one.”
Pavel stepped forward, hands clenched at his sides, body pulled taut. Bridger’s eyes widened. He’d gone too far. And he faced something scarier than the hag. Pavel was mild-mannered and good-natured on a stressful day, and it was that type of person who became truly frightening when finally pushed too far.
“Do you think this is easy?” Pavel’s accent thickened. His visage changed, and Bridger smelled ozone and magic, could feel the pulse of it emanating from Pavel. “In a century of performing my duties and with everything I’ve seen, the truly malicious, the truly benevolent, I’ve never destroyed an innocent myth. Never. But given the choice between ending one myth and the world that I’m a part of, the world of unicorns and faeries and magic, I’d choose that one myth.”
“You’re wrong. And I’m not going to let you.”
Pavel’s gaze sharpened. “You will not interfere.”
“I will.” Bridger stuck out his chin. “If you do this, you will have to go through me first.”
“This is bigger than a childhood crush. This is bigger than a fledgling affair.” Pavel stalked forward. “This is bigger than one immature teenager.”
Bridger bristled. “I may be an immature teenager, but I’m not giving up. I will find a way. And you and your relics can suck it.”
Pavel’s expression darkened. An elemental breeze danced around the room, swirling dust motes and ruffling paper. The air grew dense, heavy with magic and promise. “Don’t get in my way, Bridger.”
Holy hell. Pavel could pull off ominous when he wanted to. But Bridger was not going to back down. This was Leo’s life.
“You don’t have to worry about me. I qui—”
Nia flew up and pinched Bridger’s mouth closed with a strong grip for such deceptively tiny hands and arms.
“Don’t,” she warned. “Don’t say that.”
Bridger flinched away from her. She let go, but he kept his lips clamped shut. He brushed past her and knocked his shoulder hard into Pavel’s. It was like hitting a brick, and Bridger grumbled as he grabbed his bag and tossed it over one shoulder.
“Thanks for the job and the lessons and, you know, the conversation when we met the sasquatch. But I can’t be a part of this.”
“You’re welcome. And thank you for being a friend.”
Bridger turned away.
“Be careful,” Pavel added, voice soft. “Please.”
Bridger nodded once, not meeting Pavel’s gaze, then he left the room and thundered down the stairs.
As he hit the first floor, the door swung open, and Astrid walked in. Bran hovered over her shoulder, laughing, high-pitched and hysterical.
Astrid brightened. “Bridger! You’re awake! I’ve had a pixie in my backpack all day. There is glitter everywhere.” She smiled, absolutely delighted, and Bran effervesced, blue sparks falling in a shimmering curtain.
“I ate pop tarts,” Bran said. “They were amazing. Next time you go to the store, I want a case. An entire case of every flavor.”
Bridger strode past the pair of them and headed for the door.
“Bridge? Are you okay?”
“I’m leaving.”
“Oh,” Astrid said. She paused a moment, and Bridger cast a look over his shoulder. Her nose scrunched in confusion, and she exchanged a quick look with Bran before following. “Hold on. I’ll give you a ride.”
Bridger didn’t break his stride. He was out the door and on the path in the weed-strewn lawn in moments with Astrid right behind him. The heavy front door slammed shut, the sound loud and final.
“What’s going on?”
“I’ll tell you in the car.”
Astrid shadowed him, strangely submissive, but she didn’t argue. She unlocked the door, and Bridger threw his body in the front seat. He bit his lip, willed down all the thoughts and emotions threatening to choke him.
Leo had to die.
Leo had to die.
Leo had to die.
To finish the hero cycle. To keep the other myths from acting out. To keep them hidden. To keep them safe.
And Bridger had to stop it. Somehow.
He had to defy his boss, his mentor, his friend, who had magic and knowledge and a werewolf best friend and pixies at his disposal.
Bridger had to keep Leo safe.
On his own.
Fuck.