by F. T. Lukens
“Bridger, what are you—”
“My boss is an awesome, caring dude and didn’t know. He defended me because he thought you were harassing me—which, let’s be honest, you were. And my boyfriend knew nothing. He’s so busy with baseball and school there was no way he could be involved.”
“Stop!” She raised her hand. “Stop. I know what I saw. There was a distortion in the air, and you stepped out of it.”
Pavel cleared his throat. “You’re drunk, Miss Lore.”
“I may be drunk, but I know what I saw. Okay, I don’t know what I saw, but I saw something, and you three know what it was.” She wobbled, then stumbled and went down on one knee.
The three of them lunged to assist her, but she pushed them away. She gained her feet just as her cellphone rang. She pulled it from the pocket of her robe and answered.
“What?” She squinted. “In the parking lot. No, the one with all the limos. Yeah, wait, where are you?”
Matt appeared down the sidewalk with his cellphone pressed to his ear and utter relief on his face.
“I’m right here, looking for you!” He ended the call and shoved the phone in his pocket. “Thank goodness, Summer. You went to the liquor store an hour ago. What the heck happened?”
“We found her here,” Pavel said, smoothly. “She’s quite impaired. She’s been raving about seeing things and she smells of liquor. She accosted my assistant again, and I did warn her last time about harassing him. Next time, we will call the police.”
Summer scoffed and, if glares could kill, Pavel would have been a corpse, as would Bridger—one in a tux, but still a dead man walking. A prom zombie.
Matt sighed and gently took Summer by the arm. “Let’s get you back to the suite.”
“There was a glowing oval!”
“Uh huh.” Matt steered her toward the back door of the hotel. “You can tell me all about it in the morning after you sober up a little.”
Summer glared at the trio while Matt escorted her away.
Bridger stood frozen in the parking lot until Summer and Matt were through the back door of the hotel. “As much of a pain as she is, Pavel, I don’t feel good about that.”
Leo frowned and rested his hand between Bridger’s shoulder blades.
Pavel sighed. “I don’t either. But we must protect the myths at all costs.” He leveled Bridger with a significant gaze. “You know that.”
Bridger did. He remembered their conversation last fall, when Leo’s life was the price to bring peace and balance back to the myth cycles, the solution to keeping the supernatural world from being revealed. Fortunately, Leo’s hero death was a metaphorical one, but there were a few days when Bridger and Pavel were on opposite sides of a huge divide, and there didn’t seem to be a way to meet in the middle that didn’t involve a fight. Maybe he was more like Captain America than he’d thought, but that would make Pavel Iron Man, and that made Bridger’s brain short-circuit.
Bridger shivered. “Still doesn’t mean that I feel awesome about gaslighting Summer.”
“I know.” Pavel shook his head. “Go back to your dance, Bridger. Enjoy your night with Leo. I’ll see you Monday.”
“Pavel?” Bridger fidgeted. He tugged on his loosened tie. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Thank you.”
Pavel was a bad liar, but Bridger let it slide, even if he could see the aging in Pavel’s posture and the lines forming around the downturn of his mouth.
“Okay. I’ll see you Monday.”
Waving, Pavel disappeared into the night.
Leo draped his arm over Bridger’s shoulders. “Do you still want to dance? We don’t have to stay. We could go home if you want.”
“Are you kidding?” Bridger managed a smile. “I think there is a fake Vegas roulette table at the school gym that we have to hit up. And I need at least one more dance with the prom king. I mean, how many guys can say they’re dating the prom king? Only one. Me. It’s me. I’m dating the prom king.”
“You don’t have to pretend to be okay for me, Bridger. The whole situation is…”
“Shitty,” Bridger supplied. “It’s awful. And makes me feel like a bad person. And I feel all mixed up inside about it, but I don’t feel mixed up inside about you. Let’s go dance and drink the bad punch and go to the after-prom and gamble with raffle tickets.”
“And eat all the ice cream.”
“Yes. And eat all the ice cream.” Bridger nodded. “I agree with this plan. It is a good plan.”
“Even if you came up with it.”
“Hey! I’ll have you know that my plans have gotten better than they were before. I know they couldn’t get much worse, but there has been marked improvement.”
Chuckling under his breath in the way that made Bridger’s heart double-thump and his cheeks flush, Leo led Bridger back to the ballroom. “I know. You did just pull off an amazing prom surprise.”
“Exactly! I should get at least some points for that.”
Leo rolled his eyes. He dug his fingers into the indent of Bridger’s waist. “Not everything is a contest.”
“Says the prom king who plays all the sports.”
Leo shook his head and glanced at Bridger through his eyelashes. “Speaking of sports, the next home game is for the chance to play in the state championship. I’d love it if you came to watch.”
“Of course. I’ll be there. With pom poms and a huge sign declaring that you are the best player in the entire universe.”
Leo kissed his cheek. “Please don’t.”
Snorting, Bridger knocked his shoulder into Leo as they entered the hotel. The music from the dance careened down the hallway, the melody was muffled, but the beat thumped in the floor. Determined to enjoy the rest of the night, Bridger gritted his teeth and hooked his fingers in the side pocket of Leo’s jacket.
Bridger’s life was destined for change, and everything around him was in a tumult. He would graduate and be forced to face the next chapter of his life. His dad circled him in a Plutonian orbit. His job was unpredictable bedlam. His feelings on all those subjects were a tangled mess, but at least he had Leo for the night. And he had Astrid. And the next few hours stretched out in front of him in a needed predictable pattern of too-loud music, bad dancing, spontaneous laughter, and weighted kisses. He clung to it, as he clung to Leo as they snuck back into prom, because everything was changing, and he was certain he couldn’t handle it alone.
* * *
Bridger slept through most of Sunday. He didn’t wake up until late afternoon. He ate, worked on schoolwork, then went back to sleep.
He went through the motions on Monday. All anyone could talk about was prom, which was a relief from talking about anything else. Bridger went to classes. He had lunch with Astrid. Luke had moved from his spot on the other end of the table to one beside her. She blushed at Bridger’s raised eyebrows.
After lunch, Bridger handed out yearbooks and avoided making eye contact with the underclassmen because it invited conversation and he was not in the mood to make small talk. He hadn’t heard from Leo about the note Bridger had written in his yearbook and that meant either he hadn’t read it yet or he didn’t have anything to say. Leo had yet to return Bridger’s yearbook, so maybe he was agonizing as much as Bridger had. Anyway, it wasn’t something Bridger wanted to dwell on, and he pushed it to the back of his mind.
At the end of the day, with his hood pulled up, he hopped into Astrid’s car.
“We’re kind of dating,” she said to Bridger before he could ask. “He likes me, and I like him but he’s going to Ohio State for school.”
Bridger made a face.
“I know,” Astrid said, shaking her head so her piercings glinted in the spring sunlight. “Of all places.”
She pulled out of the parking lot and drove toward Pavel’s house chatting away about prom night a
nd graduation.
“Hey,” Bridger said, “Leo wants me to come to the baseball game this week. You in?”
“Definitely. I’ll invite Luke.”
“Sounds good. Maybe we can go out after.”
“Awesome.”
They lapsed into silence. If Astrid noticed his extra moodiness, she didn’t comment, and he was grateful for it. She stopped in front of Pavel’s house.
Bridger grabbed his bag from the floorboard. “Hey, can you proofread my paper for me? It’s almost done.”
“Yeah, sure. Print it out and bring it to me at school.”
“Print it out? There are like five other easier ways for me to share my paper with you than to print it out.”
“Yeah, but I like to read it on paper. I catch more mistakes that way. Plus, I like using a red pen.”
Sighing, Bridger opened the car door. “Fine, Grandma. I’ll get it to you this week.”
“That’s a funny way to say thank you!” she yelled from her open window.
“Thank you!” Bridger yelled back to her from the front porch.
She flicked him off.
Caught off guard, Bridger burst out a laugh; his mood lifted. Still chuckling, Bridger waltzed into the house. He tipped an imaginary hat to Mindy at her desk but stopped short when he looked at her desk.
“You’re down to one?” A lone bobblehead sat on the corner. It was a spider with a clown hat, and it eyed him as if he owed it money. She shrugged and slid a terrifyingly long, sharp pin through her pile of hair. “What’s going on?”
She blinked. Her eyeshadow was deep purple and matched the purple on her pursed lips and fingernails. She leveled him with a stare. “I needed a change.”
“Oh,” Bridger said. “So, like, are you moving on from bobbleheads? You’re going to invest in something equally as unsettling to spread over your desk? Is it porcelain babies? Or a giant tank filled with bug-eyed fish and weird plants and a pineapple under the sea?”
“Something like that.”
“Oh, okay. Awesome. Thank goodness. That is a change I can handle. Honestly, I miss cross-eyed Postman Rover, but I look forward to his replacement.”
“Boss is on the large mirror upstairs. Be quiet when you head up. If you’re capable.”
Aghast, Bridger pressed his palm to his chest. “Rude.”
Smirking, Mindy went back to her phone and tapped away at some game.
As quietly as possible, Bridger ascended the stairs and went to the large mirror in the living area. Usually it was hidden behind a curtain, and Bridger had never seen Pavel use it, though he knew it was how Pavel contacted his mentor and Intermediary Headquarters. He poked his head around the corner.
Pavel stood in front of the mirror with his head hanging, the heel of his hand pressed to his forehead, and his eyes focused on a worn spot on the floor.
In the reflection was a person Bridger had never met, but who was vaguely familiar. He had white hair that fell to his shoulders, and his wrinkles had wrinkles. He wore a sweater and jeans and he looked like someone’s farmer grandpa, except that he exuded the same otherness that Pavel did, the aura of someone not quite of this world. He stared at Pavel with a disapproving expression, and, when he spoke, his voice was deep, in such a low register that Bridger had trouble hearing it.
“You are not suggesting you reveal the myth world to Summer Lore,” he said, tone incredulous and angry. “Have you hit your head?”
Pavel winced. “I thought if we revealed something small, then it would satisfy her curiosity and she’d move on.”
“Why? Because your assistant is uncomfortable with lying?”
Pavel snapped his gaze to the mirror. “Because I’m uncomfortable with the situation. She saw our portal, and I used her drunken state to take advantage.”
“And that is your fault. You should know better than to leap into a portal without knowing what is on the other side.”
“The toasters rang, and my assistant needed—”
“Where was his familiar?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter. I warned you Midnight Marvel needed retraining and was not disciplined enough to be assigned. She is inattentive and rebellious. You must send her back to be disciplined.”
Bridger recoiled. Pavel clenched his jaw and stared at the floor. “Midnight Marvel is not the problem. The situation required my immediate attention. My assistant—”
“Your assistant is a liability. And if was up to the Intermediary Council, he’d no longer be part of your team. It’s only the rule that intermediaries choose their assistants that has allowed him to continue as your subordinate for as long as he has.”
“He has been the only one who has lasted—”
“Again, Pavel, this is all the product of your actions and, dare I say, mistakes.”
Sagging, Pavel shoved his hands into the pockets of his striped trousers. “Understood, Aurelius. I will strive to do better.”
“Get Summer out of your region. Do it quickly. The Council doesn’t care about the means, only the result.”
“I will see what I can do.”
“No, you will accomplish this task. Or they will make you quit.”
Pavel paled, lips parted in a gasp. He nodded and tugged at his collar. “I understand.”
Bridger gulped. Quit was a powerful word. When Bridger was on the verge of leaving himself, Nia had pinched his lips shut with her tiny arms before he could utter it. The house had a mechanism for those who chose to leave: pitching the individual out via the side door and erasing their memory of all magical knowledge. The person would believe they’d been working at a boring office job instead of running errands for pixies. The side door was a failsafe, a way to keep the number of people who knew about the magical world to a minimum.
“Good. Mirror me again when the job is done. Until then, keep a better eye on your assistant and ensure his familiar is doing her job.”
“Yes, Aurelius.”
The mirror winked out.
Pavel drooped, and sat heavily in the chair.
“He’s the guy from the portrait downstairs, isn’t he?”
Startling, Pavel hit his knee on the underside of his table. His tea cup toppled, hitting the carpeted floor with a thunk.
“Sorry.” Bridger sheepishly retrieved the cup. “I’ll make you some tea.”
Pavel didn’t argue, merely squeezed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. Having watched Pavel make tea a hundred times, Bridger could make a decent cup—at least he thought he could. Pavel took a sip, and his expression remained neutral. At least he didn’t spit it out.
Bridger sat across from him and scrubbed his hands over his jeans. “What’s the deal with Marv?”
“Oh, well, um, Midnight Marvel is easily distracted. She wasn’t very good at her last assignment and forgets that she’s a familiar at times.”
“Oh. Are you going to send her back?”
“Of course not! This is her third assignment. If she fails this one, then…” He trailed off. “Anyway, don’t worry. She’s fine.”
Bridger rubbed his hands on his jeans. Marv had been a great comfort to him thus far, and he couldn’t really picture her failing at being a kitten. “And they want me fired?”
“Huh? Oh,” Pavel waved the question away. “It doesn’t matter. They can’t make me fire an assistant. It’s in the bylaws.”
“But they can make you… They can make you leave.”
“Yes. And if they do. then I lose my memory and my magic.”
“Yikes.” Bridger winced. “Would you, you know, since you’re a century old...”
Pavel winced. “What would it matter? I’d lose everything else.” He gestured around him indicating his home, and it hit Bridger like a ton of bricks.
“You’d lose your
family.”
“Yes.”
“Oh, shit, Pavel. I didn’t realize.”
“And my replacement would likely bring or hire their own assistant.”
Bridger shivered. “Really? I… Fuck. What do we need to do? Tell me what I need to do.”
Pavel remained silent and still, staring at a spot on the wall. He was quiet for so long, Bridger thought he might have to repeat the question.
“Do you have your book?” Pavel asked, coming to life as if someone had unpaused him.
Bridger nodded quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, I carry it with me all the time. You told me to keep it nearby.”
“Good. I want you to look through it and make notes on what might be a small element of our world that we could reveal to Summer. Something that would satisfy her curiosity but also not spur her onward toward other revelations. Make a list.”
“Like an offering? Something to appease her?”
“Yes.” Pavel tented his fingers. “Yes. But only if she continues to hound you. We won’t need to use it if she decides the portal was a figment of her imagination.”
“Um, not to be a jerk but, uh, wouldn’t you be better at that?”
“No. I’m too immersed. You would have a better eye for it. Write down your suggestions and I’ll look them over tonight.”
“Okay. Yeah, I can do that.” Bridger yanked the book out of his bag and flipped it open. “I guess it needs to be local and small, maybe the Paulding Light or the Ada Witch, though I’d hate to bring more attention to that cemetery and—”
“Quietly, Bridger,” Pavel said; a small smile teased the corner of his mouth. “Make some notes. I need to talk with Mindy.”
In a flurry of cheap fabric and thin limbs, Pavel shot to his feet and left the room.
Bridger frowned, fairly certain that the assignment was busy work to keep him mollified and out of the way while Pavel did the real work. But research had come in handy before, and it wouldn’t be a bad idea to do what Pavel asked. Doing the opposite was what had got them into this mess—and put Pavel and his family at risk.
Bridger grabbed a notebook and a pen and set to work.
