Chapter 13
Day 1 of temptation—and nothing happened. It was an ordinary Wednesday. Bridger went to school. He didn’t go to work. He studied with Leo. When Bridger went home, he searched for everything he could find on the hero cycle while he and Leo texted until Leo went to bed. Brain fried from research and conflicting information, Bridger propped himself up by his window using his computer chair and a bunch of blankets to watch for wayward hags.
He didn’t sleep much.
Day 2 of temptation—much of the same, except Bridger was exhausted. He moved through the day in a haze with Leo and Astrid giving him looks. He fell asleep in English class, but Astrid was there to protect Leo. He only hoped he didn’t snore.
Day 3—Friday. The night of the Homecoming game.
Bridger wasn’t going to make it. He needed toothpicks to prop his eyes open and he said as much to Astrid. Or, he thought he did.
Astrid slammed her locker shut.
“Don’t you feel at least a little skeevy that you’re using your tempting self to thwart the hero cycle?”
Bridger scoffed. “No. I like Leo. He likes me. The attraction is already there. The tempting is a bonus to, you know, keep him alive.”
She rolled her eyes. “And how long do you plan to keep this up?”
“I see a spring wedding,” Bridger said, spreading out his hands and making a frame with his fingers. “A house in the suburbs. Two point five children.”
“And you’re okay if the other myths are exposed and Pavel leads a miserable life trying to keep it all under wraps?”
Yay, guilt. The thing Bridger had been staunchly avoiding.
“In case you didn’t notice, Pavel already leads a pretty miserable life.”
“You’re living a miserable life.”
“Ha! I’m living the life of my dreams, thank you.”
Astrid raised an eyebrow. “Pavel lives with pixies and his best friend is a werewolf. Doesn’t sound miserable to me at all.”
“Yeah, but you haven’t met Mindy.”
“You on the other hand—when was the last time you slept?”
Bridger waved his hand vaguely. He could tell Astrid was on the verge of throttling him. Her expression said as much, and she held her English book in a vise grip.
“I wish you could hear yourself.”
“And I wish you could be happy for me. I asked Leo to Homecoming. He said yes. We’re kind of dating. I have almost completely transformed into my bisexual butterfly self.”
Astrid pinched the bridge of her nose. “Yes, I’m happy for you. Where is he anyway? I thought he was meeting you and I would be spared this morning.”
“Shut up. You love me.” Bridger scanned the crowd of students walking by. Leo was not among them. “But I don’t know. You don’t think…” Bridger trailed off.
“He’s fine, Bridge. I’m sure of it.”
Bridger gulped. What if he wasn’t? What if something had happened? Was Bridger going to have to tail Leo for the rest of his life? That would be nearly impossible, because after two days Bridger was already on the verge of collapse. And the police would call it stalking.
Just as his anxiety began to spike, Leo appeared. He hurried over; his dark hair was unusually messy, and his complexion was drained of color.
“Hey,” he greeted, breathless.
Bridger immediately went on alert. “Are you okay? What’s going on?” He grabbed Leo by the biceps and hauled him close. His gaze darted along the hallway, and he strained to hear if the compact in his bag rang.
“Sorry I’m late. I was catching up with Zeke. His best friend, Luke, was injured last night. And he’s really upset.”
Bridger and Astrid exchanged a glance.
“Injured how?” she asked.
“It was a freak animal encounter. He was mauled.”
“Mauled?” Bridger’s whole body stiffened. “By what?”
“That’s the weird thing,” Leo said, his voice pitched low. “No one knows what it was. Kind of like what happened at the lake.”
Crap. Shit. Fuck. Oh, hey, more guilt. It weighed heavy on Bridger’s conscience and settled liked lead in his gut.
“That sucks.” Astrid shouldered her bag. “Is he going to be okay?”
“I think so. He’s at the hospital. I told Zeke I’d give him a ride over there after school, and we’d visit before the game.” Leo frowned. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Bridger’s mind had been scanning the creature field guide in his head, so it took a minute for Leo’s question to register.
“Oh,” Bridger shook his head to clear his thoughts. “No, you’re cool. I’m glad you want to be there for your friend.”
Leo smiled warmly. “You’re the best.”
Bridger’s answering smile was brittle.
“You’re both coming to the game tonight, right?”
Bridger blinked. “Huh?”
Astrid’s elbow jammed into his ribs.
“Oh, right!” Bridger said, rubbing the sore spot. “The Homecoming game! Wouldn’t miss it! You’re going to be awesome. So awesome. I mean, the absolute best. I hope you score all the points.”
“Laying it on there, Bridge,” Astrid said under her breath.
Leo beamed anyway. “I can’t score all the points, Bridger. I don’t think we’d win that way. But I’ll score a lot,” he took Bridger’s hand and laced their fingers. “Because you’ll be watching.”
Astrid gagged.
Bridger stepped on her foot while he stared adoringly at Leo. His heart double-thumped at the cheesiest line ever, and he didn’t know what that said about him. And then his insides wrenched, because keeping Leo alive may have been at the expense of someone else. Reconciling that was going to take serious mental acrobatics.
The bell rang.
Bridger jumped.
“Are you okay?” Leo asked. He raised an eyebrow. “You look a little… pale.”
“I’m fine.” He wasn’t fine. “I just remembered I forgot to do an assignment for government.” Lie. “Astrid, we’re going to have to skip English.”
“What? No way. I’m not sacrificing my grade because you—”
“Astrid!” Bridger widened his eyes and pleaded with her through facial expressions. He was sure he looked ridiculous.
She furrowed her brow, and Bridger saw the moment she understood. “Oh. Leo, can you take notes for us?” She batted her eyes and flipped her hair.
“Sure.”
Bridger squeezed Leo’s hand. He smiled and tugged Leo close. “You’re awesome. I’ll see you at the game. Okay?”
“Okay.” Leo kissed Bridger’s cheek, then headed to class.
Bridger’s face caught fire. He grinned, dazed and dopey, then grimaced when he caught Astrid glaring at him.
Oh, right. Mauling.
He looped his arm through hers and tugged. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“To talk to Pavel.”
“I thought you weren’t talking to Pavel.” Her tone was the epitome of smug. She smirked as she walked beside him, oozing her special brand of know-it-all.
Bridger bit down on the retort poised on the tip of his tongue. It wasn’t the time. Later. He’d be snarky later. Now, they had to get across the sports fields unseen. Apparently, no one had gym class first period, which was lucky for them.
Bridger pulled Astrid to the equipment shed and shoved her inside. The interior was dark, and Bridger rummaged around in his bag until he grasped the hard shell of the mirror. He flipped it open, dropping his bag to the floor.
“Please call Pavel.”
Astrid crowded close to his side.
“So that’s how it works.”
The mirror lit up, and the glass surface wavered. “Some of the time,” Bridger muttered. He waited as the compact vibrated in his palm. After a few moments, Pavel’s face crystalized.
“Yes?” Laconic Pavel meant an angry Pavel. Well, hello to you, too, good buddy.
“What was it?” Bridger said. “That mauled Luke.”
Pavel’s visage softened visibly. He sighed. “The Beast of Bladenboro.”
There was a joke in there about Elena’s family reunion, but Bridger was too shocked to make it. Instead his eyebrows shot up, and his chest tightened. “That’s a North Carolina cryptid.”
Pavel nodded, unable to hide that he was impressed. “It is.” He pushed his dark hair out of his eyes. “Elena scared it away and saved the boy before I had a chance to communicate with it.”
“Well, dogs and cats don’t really get along.” There was the joke. Damn, Astrid needed to stop with the elbow. Bridger was going to have bruises.
“What exactly is the Beast of Bladenboro?”
“A vicious wild cat that likes to decapitate or crush its prey,” Pavel said. “Native to North Carolina, it hasn’t been sighted in decades, not even by other myths. Until now.”
Astrid leaned in. “That’s a pretty far distance to wander.”
“It’s part of Leo’s pull,” Bridger said.
Pavel rubbed a hand over his eyes. “The longer he is stuck, the bigger his sphere of influence grows. In a few days, he’ll begin to affect the myths in other regions. Other intermediaries will begin to notice.” Pavel stared into the mirror. The skin around his eyes was thin and dark. There were new wrinkles at the corners. “I won’t be able to stop them, Bridger.”
Bridger swallowed. “What do I need to do?”
“Pull back.” Pavel’s mouth turned down at the corners. “Push him away. If you can spur him forward in the cycle, I won’t have to intervene. Bridger, I don’t want to have to intervene.”
Bridger’s throat went dry. Astrid put her arm around his shoulders and hugged him, but it didn’t stop the way his stomach plummeted. His heart dried up, shriveled between one beat and the next, and the pain sent Bridger to his knees. The thump echoed in the shed.
“It’ll hurt him,” he whispered.
“Yes.”
“I like him.”
“I know,” Pavel said. “And I’m sorry.”
The next words stuck in Bridger’s throat, clogged behind his teeth, until he spat them out. “He’ll die.”
“He might,” Pavel said. “We don’t know.”
This was the opposite of what Bridger wanted, but he had only been kidding himself the last few days. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to intervene in the cycle for the rest of Leo’s life. It wasn’t possible. He just thought he might have a little longer.
“Tonight,” Bridger said, throat tight. “After tonight, I’ll break up with him. Give me tonight.”
Pavel nodded once.
Nia pushed her way in, her wings fluttering frantically, sparks shooting off in different directions. Her tiny round face was scrunched in anger.
“Human,” she spat. “When are you coming back?”
“I… don’t know.”
She shivered and glared. “Soon, human. I need to ensure your safety.”
In the mirror, Pavel gently scooped Nia up and placed her on his shoulder. “Sorry, she’s out of sorts, lately. So is Bran.”
“Because of Leo?”
Pavel pinched the bridge of his nose. “Possibly.” He really was a horrible liar.
“I’ll fix this. I promise. I will.”
“I trust you,” Pavel said, then smiled sadly. “We’ll talk later. Keep alert.” He waved; then the screen went blank.
Astrid sat on the dirty floor of the shed next to Bridger. She squeezed his shoulder. “You okay?”
“No.”
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and Bridger numbly sank into her embrace. She didn’t offer any comfort—there wasn’t any to be had. She merely held him, and Bridger welcomed the friendship. He tucked his head on her shoulder and sighed.
And that was how the second period gym class found them.
Of course.
Bridger skulked around the school for the rest of the day. He ate lunch hidden in an empty classroom, shoving a carton of soggy fries into his mouth, and avoided Leo and the rest of the football team.
The talk of the school was Luke and the mauling. Bridger didn’t take the rumors at face value, having been the victim of them twice already that year, but the gory accounts still seeped into his brain. Bridger wanted to sink through the floor and disappear.
At the end of the day, Bridger walked out the front door of the school certain that Leo and Zeke had already left to visit Luke at the hospital.
For a fall afternoon, the sky was dark; the sun was hidden behind foreboding clouds rolling that spit icy rain. Bridger held up his palm and shivered as drops splattered on his hand.
“Great.”
“Matches your mood,” Astrid said, coming to stand behind him. She slung her arm around Bridger’s shoulders.
“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.”