Monster of the Week

by F. T. Lukens

  “What is?”

  “Summer and Mindy. Summer wanted so badly to find a way out of the pigeonhole created for her that she was willing to destroy lives to do it. I know what it’s like to feel trapped, and I, I hate that anyone feels like that. And Mindy! Mindy worked here for years in the presence of pixies and all the other creatures that came and went through your door and she won’t remember a single thing about it.”

  Pavel hummed. “They both made choices. But I have a feeling Summer will be fine. She seems the type to land on her feet.”

  “And Mindy?”

  “She could’ve stayed, but, in the end, she wanted to live a more normal life. And that’s fine. Besides, it wasn’t like she was much interested in anything that went on upstairs. She preferred to stay out of it all.”

  “Do you ever think about it?” Bridger asked, leaning on Mindy’s old desk. “Leaving?”

  “Some days.” Pavel put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “But I’d miss it too much. And regular life seems so dull. I don’t know what I would do with myself if I wasn’t chasing after unicorns.”

  “Yeah. I guess it would seem dull after a life like this.”

  Gripping his shoulder, Pavel gave Bridger a small shake. “Will you be all right?”

  “Sure. What about you?”

  “Me?”

  “Well, yeah, this is the second time in a year that your whole life has been threatened by something out of your control. It’s a wonder you’re not jumping at anything out of the ordinary.”

  Pavel cocked his head. “I’ll be fine. I have Elena and the pixies. And I have a wonderful assistant.”

  Bridger smiled. “Yeah. You do.”

  “Don’t you have graduation festivities to get to? Your mother will be waiting for your call.”

  Bridger smacked his forehead. “Oh, crap. Good thing I’m an adult or she’d ground me forever.” He crossed the room. “You want to come? I know it was awkward with my dad, but my mom really likes you, and it’d be nice.”

  Pavel’s lips twitched. He looked around the room and sighed. “I should stay here. Check on Elena and Nia and Bran and have this…” He gestured at his hands and his face. “…looked to. But have fun.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” Bridger paused at the doorway. He didn’t really know why he did it, but in the moment, with all the changes they’d been through, with Mindy leaving, and Bridger preparing for the next chapter of his life, graduating and losing his dad in the same day, maybe they both needed a little reassurance. “Hey, I’ll see you Monday.”

  Pavel brightened. “Yes. I’ll see you Monday.”

  Bridger waved, and bounced through the front door, phone in his hand.

  Chapter 17

  Six Weeks Later

  “I guess that whole virgin purity schtick really was an antiquated notion used to oppress women,” Bridger said as he stroked the unicorn’s muzzle. “Who knew, huh?”

  The unicorn rolled its eyes. Apparently, it knew, and didn’t deign to tell him. Jerk. That would’ve cut down by at least fifty percent his anxiousness over whether he was going to be gored when he entered the woods. The unicorn nudged his shoulder and snuffled at the bag on Bridger’s back.

  “Yeah, yeah. I know.” He unzipped his backpack and pulled out the burrito. “Just so you know, this is the last one. Pavel is worried for your health and says burritos aren’t a unicorn’s natural diet. Don’t get pissed at me. Take it up with him.”

  Bridger peeled off the tinfoil and dropped the log-shaped tortilla on a paper plate, then set it next to the rock.

  “Enjoy.” He hefted the bag back on his shoulder. “I have to head out. Beach trip today with Leo and a few friends.” Bridger patted the unicorn’s bent neck. “I’ll make sure to come by before I leave for college in a few weeks. Until then, be a good unicorn and don’t try to murder anyone.”

  The unicorn whickered in goodbye, and Bridger left the woods, heading toward the nearest Commons parking lot.

  Despite all the major changes Bridger had experienced during his last semester in high school, several things had stayed the same. He still had a boyfriend. He still had a best friend. He still had a job. He still had one parent who loved him. He had gained a magical cat that appeared when he was in imminent peril, but only if she was paying attention.

  Yet, there was no doubt that he had changed. Yes, him. Bridger Whitt. No longer a high school senior, and one year older, and maybe not as much of an awkward dumpster fire as when the semester began. He hoped to approach situations with a little more maturity and he began to understand what it meant to be an adult and how actions and decisions had repercussions and consequences and could affect others in ways he didn’t intend. It was a scary prospect, but at least he had a few great role models.

  In addition, Bridger was secure in himself in a way he hadn’t thought he’d ever achieve. And he didn’t care who saw or what they thought when he bounded into Leo’s car and leaned over and kissed him square on the mouth.

  “Hey,” he said.

  Leo grinned, brown eyes crinkling. “Hey, yourself. How’s Pointy?”

  “That’s not its name, and the unicorn is great. Eating a burrito as we speak.”

  “Good, because Astrid has texted me ten times. I think she really wants to get to the beach.”

  “I think she really wants to get to Luke, but, hey, I’m not judging.” Leo laughed and turned the ignition of his new-to-him vehicle. “I can’t believe your uncle Roberto bought you a car,” Bridger said, running his fingers over the interior and inhaling the new-car smell. “This is amazing.”

  “I know, right?” Leo said, pulling out of the parking spot. “He said it was to be able to drive back and forth and visit my mom from college. But knowing Roberto, it’s definitely to be the cool freshman who can make beer runs.”

  Bridger snorted. “You’re already the cool freshman, and we’re not even there yet. I’m certain there will be a parade and a welcoming committee on the first day of orientation.”

  Blushing, Leo rolled his eyes. “You’re going to give me a big ego.”

  “Well, you know what they say about flattery? That it will get you everywhere.”

  Leo placed a kiss on Bridger’s cheek while they waited at a stoplight. “Everywhere, huh? Like the back seat of a used car.”

  Squirming, Bridger flushed. “Hey, we have to pick up Astrid, then Luke. So maybe tone that down until we’re alone later.”

  Leo gave him a wink. “Later then.”

  In the six weeks since graduation, Bridger had spent as much time with Leo and Astrid as possible, planning for college, hanging out around Midden, helping Pavel when needed, though Pavel was giving Bridger freer rein than regular employment would allow to enjoy his summer.

  Leo eased the car into Astrid’s driveway, where she waited.

  “Hey, did you see the google alert?” Astrid asked, sliding into the back.

  Bridger swiped his hair from his forehead. “No. About what?”

  “About Monster of the Week. The season premiere has been postponed.”

  “What?” Bridger turned in his seat and peered around the headrest. “Why?”

  Astrid held up her phone. “Apparently Summer Lore walked off set and quit.”

  Squinting, Bridger read the first line of the article. “Citing a contract breach and dissatisfaction with production, Summer Lore has left her defining role as host of the show in pursuit of other opportunities.” Huh. “Good for her.”

  “Good for her? She made your life hell.” Astrid fell back to her seat.

  Shrugging, Bridger turned around as Leo backed out of Astrid’s driveway. “I hope she finds happiness.”

  “How very mature of you,” Leo said, patting Bridger’s knee. “It’s like you’re an adult or something.”

  Bridger snorted.

 
“Nice car, by the way,” Astrid said, snuggling into the seat. “Tell Uncle Roberto he has great taste.”

  “I’ll let him know Mercutio approves.”

  Bridger groaned. “Can you two please come up with better nicknames for each other? Not that I mind that it makes me Juliet in the scenario, but that play is so dark. All three of those characters die. I’d like to be in a romance for once, not a tragedy.”

  “You are in a romance,” Leo said, shooting Bridger a side-eye. “Right? Or did we switch genres when I wasn’t paying attention?”

  Bridger twined their fingers. “Definitely romance.”

  “Okay, if you two are done being sappy. And if you’re going to whine about it. We’ll come up with a better trio. What do you think of Kirk, Spock, and McCoy?”

  “No,” Bridger said as Leo shook his head. “Not even close.”

  “Um, Luke, Han, and Leia?”

  “Rey, Finn, and Poe,” Leo countered.

  “Not sci-fi, please. I get enough of that at work. How about Athos, Porthos, and Aramis?”

  Astrid considered it. “Would that make Luke d’Artagnan?”

  “Good question—”

  The sound of clanging bells rang from Bridger’s bag, interrupting the smooth flow of conversation. He fished the glowing and vibrating compact from the bottom and flipped it open to find Nia peering at him. Her pinched face filled the entire mirror; pink fizzles of light popped behind her.

  “Bridger, I need you to come to the house right away. It’s an emergency.”

  “A real emergency?” Bridger asked, holding the mirror in his palm. “Or a pixie emergency. I have learned the difference.”

  “A real—hey! Pixie emergencies are real emergencies.”

  Bridger sighed. “Hey, do you two mind if we run by the house quick before we pick up Luke?”

  “Fine by me,” Astrid said. “I’m up for a visit. As long as it’s quick. Luke is expecting us.”

  A few minutes later, Leo pulled up to the house. “I’ll be back in a flash. You guys continue naming trios that are nothing like us.”

  “Parker, Hardison, and Eliot,” Astrid yelled as Bridger closed the door. Okay, he had to admit. That one wasn’t bad.

  He skipped up the sidewalk to the house. The door swung open, and, as he stepped across the threshold, the familiar tingle of the magic ward scrubbed down his spine.

  A young woman with ashy blonde hair and big blue eyes straightened from her slump at the mammoth desk in the foyer. She had circular glasses and pink lips and smiled wide when Bridger waved.

  “Bridger!” she said, with enough enthusiasm to power the block. “I wasn’t expecting you today!”

  “Hi, Christine.” He held up the compact. “Pixie emergency.”

  “Oh, I hope everything is okay.” She clasped her hands.

  “I’m sure it’s about unicorn poop or black blister beetles. Nothing I can’t handle.”

  She giggled.

  Bridger was still getting accustomed to Mindy’s replacement, but Elena’s girlfriend was nice, and she kept the sasquatch bobble­head Bridger gave her right next to her keyboard.

  Nia flew down the stairs, tugging a tote and with Bran fluttering close by.

  “Human,” she muttered, dropping the satchel at Bridger’s feet, “it is not an ingredient emergency. I have closed the cosmetic line and sent out the last of my orders.”

  Bridger stopped short. “What? You closed your wildly successful business? Why?”

  She didn’t answer him. “Here are my profits,” she said, pointing to the bag. “For you.”

  Bridger stared at the bag. “Come again?”

  “The profits,” Bran said. “What? Do you think we have need of human money?”

  Stunned, Bridger stared into the bag at the rolls of bills, each worth more than anything he had in his wallet.

  “Pavel!” he yelled. “Pavel!”

  Pavel appeared on the landing and dashed down the stairs, skidding the last few steps in his bunny slippers. “What? What’s happening? Are you okay?”

  “What? I’m fine. I think. I… The pixies are trying to give me thousands of dollars in cash!”

  “Oh!” He clutched a hand over his heart; his polka-dot robe fluttered behind him. “Oh, yes, is that all? I know. It’s been their plan all along.” He peered into the bag. “That should pay for four years, correct?”

  “I, I don’t know what’s happening.”

  “Right. Cash probably wasn’t a good option,” Pavel said. “Oh, I know. I’ll keep this, put it in the bank, and pay your tuition from it until you graduate. Is that a good plan?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “You’re right; you need spending money and books. Books are expensive.”

  “No, I mean, are you serious?”

  Pavel’s brow furrowed. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

  “That’s a lot of money. That’s… I don’t understand.”

  Nia fluttered near Bridger’s face and pressed her tiny hand to his cheek. “We did it for you. You’re one of our humans.”

  Bran sat on his shoulder. “You’re our family.”

  Bridger’s mouth flapped open, and he did the only thing he could think of. He grabbed Pavel into a tight hug.

  “Oh, are you all right? Do you need tea?” Pavel asked as he tentatively patted Bridger’s back. “We still have a bit of the fortifying blend from Grandma Alice.”

  “No, no. I’m good.” He squeezed Pavel tighter than he probably should have. “I’m really good. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Bridger.”

  And yeah, things were going to change. That was the nature of life. It was inevitable. Bridger would leave town and go to college, and maybe he wouldn’t come back. Maybe he would. Maybe he and Leo would break up, or maybe they’d stay together. Maybe he’d lose touch with Astrid, or maybe they’d be best friends for the rest of their lives.

  Whatever happened, Bridger had a family, a family who loved him, and he was going to hold on to them as long as he could, as long as life would allow—terrifying portals, beautiful werewolves, unicorn poop, and all.

  The End

  Acknowledgments

  Unicorn Poop.

  I never thought I’d get to begin a book with those words. I think it’s a special privilege afforded an author that at the five-book milestone, you get to start a novel with pure ridiculousness. I took full advantage of that privilege. If you’ve made it this far into the pages of this book, you should know by now that I love ridiculousness. Surely you appreciate it as well, though the only person I know who actually reads acknowledgments is my brother (Hi, Rob!). He appreciates ridiculousness as much as I do—perhaps more so. We all need a little absurdity in our lives.

  So, dear reader, to answer a few of the questions I know you have after finishing the novel, yes, the Pope Lick Monster/Goatman is a thing that exists. It has its own Wikipedia entry. Please approach all train trestles with caution. Goatmen aside, this is probably a good piece of advice to adhere to in all life situations that involve trains, or goatmen, or both.

  Also, dear reader, the Michigan Dogman is not really named Larry. I made that up. I don’t know the Dogman’s real name. As far as I know, the Dogman has not given an interview in which he reveals that bit of information. So I had to take some creative liberty—unless the Dogman’s name really is Larry, and, if that is the case, I totally knew that.

  And last thing, dear reader, I do not own a magical, shapeshifting cat named Marv. I know that was on everyone’s mind. First, could anyone truly own a magical, shapeshifting cat? I think the relationship would be a bit different. I mean, I have two cats now that I think I don’t “own,” but rather we have a tenuous agreement: I feed them, and they don’t kill me. Second, if I had a magical shapeshifting cat, I wouldn’t be writing books. I’d be touring m
orning chat shows and selling merchandise. That would be way easier and probably more lucrative.

  Anyway, back to the task at hand, I would like to thank a whole group of people who have helped me make it to my fifth published book. First, I’d like to thank my family, especially my husband and children who are supportive and patient. My husband keeps the household running while I write or run away to exotic convention locations like Newark. He also drives five hours round trip to pick me up after I get stranded in the airport for approximately twenty hours. I also would like to thank my niece, Emma, who is always willing to be my assistant at conventions. And I would like to thank my other nieces and nephews (see the dedication for their names) who tell their school librarians about their aunt’s books and talk them up to their teachers and friends. I would like to thank my brother, Rob, who wrote “famous author and super genius” on my website and didn’t tell me how to change it.

  I’d like to thank a group of authors who are not only friends, but amazing colleagues, and who are my cheerleaders, beta readers, support group, and confidants—Carrie Pack, Julian Winters, CB Lee, Jude Sierra, Killian Brewer, Lauren Devora, Michelle Osgood, Taylor Brooke-Barton, Laura Stone, DL Wainright, SJ Martin, and Jenn Fitzpatrick. Buy their books, folks, and support authors who support others.

  I’d also like to thank the authors who run the Asheville/WNC Writer’s Coffeehouse: Beth Revis, Jamie Mason, Brian Rathbone, and Jake Bible, for all their amazing advice and encouragement. I’d like to thank the folks at Malaprop’s Bookstore/Cafe in Asheville, my local, amazing indie store, who have been so kind to me the past few years.

  It wouldn’t be my acknowledgment section if I didn’t thank my fandom lifemate Kristinn and my fandom twitter pals who are the greatest when I need a name suggestion or help deciding on a detail. I’d also like to specifically mention my patrons Kim and M.

  Lastly, this book wouldn’t be a book without the team at Interlude Press—Choi, Annie, and Candy.

  Readers, I hope you enjoyed reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. I hope that you all find happiness and love like Bridger. And I hope you get to pet a unicorn at least once in your life. Also, don’t walk on train trestles.