Second String Savior

by Rick Gualtieri

She nodded. “Hold great respect among tribe.”

  “Come back, not-bear. Floof not done!”

  I glanced over. Poor Gary. He looked like he just stepped out of the end sequence of Predator. I, on the other hand, had to marvel at my reflection in the holy hot tub. Bush had given me a braided updo worthy of a photo shoot. Wow. Gary blinked a few times as he stared at me. “What?”

  “You just look so . . . look so. . .”

  Fluff shoved past him. “Silly, not-bear. She look shiny!”

  “Yeah . . . shiny,” Gary whispered. He quickly looked away, blush rising to his cheeks.

  Bush, meanwhile, tossed me some sandals to complete my classic Wonder Woman attire. I rolled to my feet and tugged on the hemline. This tunic made gym shorts look modest.

  Bush left my side to work on Gary. Apparently, she was a bit harder to brush off than a baby Bigfoot. That left me to amuse myself by studying the cave walls and their runes. Hugh Jackman, really?

  Fluff shuffled next to me and pointed to some of the sparkling scratches. “Words tell of sacred place, of Woods of Mourning.” She then pointed to a larger pictograph that looked rather like a four-armed ape standing over a bunch of bodies. “Great warrior king, Hoombaba.”

  She bowed her head in respect and I repeated the gesture. No matter how silly some of the Sasquatch idiosyncrasies seemed, I couldn’t afford to appear rude.

  “There! Wizard cub ready,” Bush exclaimed.

  I turned around, expecting to see what else they’d slathered onto poor Gary’s face, but instead saw a veritable stranger standing in the Bigfoot’s shadow. Whatever mud Fluff had slapped on his face had worked better than any anti-zit cream on the planet. Clear-faced, looking healthier than I’d seen him since before our dustup in Boston, and now sporting white-streaked hair that went really well with his wizard robes, Gary caused my heart to flutter just a tad too quick for comfort.

  A glowing cave, Hugh Jackman, and now this. The day just kept getting weirder.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: Meet the Neighbors

  Normally when one steps into a foot-deep snowbank, one does not expect it to only feel moderately cool. I scooped a handful of the white stuff and patted it against my cheeks, but it felt no worse than splashing room temperature water on my face. “Why is the snow warm?”

  I knew the answer was magic, but I needed to hear it anyway.

  Bush chucked a snowball at me big enough to bowl me over. Then she stood over me and laughed. “Warm soul, warm body.”

  “And how long does this warm soul last?” I asked, brushing myself off. “Can I spend Christmas in a bikini?”

  “Few days, maybe more. Soak again if get cold.”

  I scrubbed my hands in the snow again, feeling barely anything. “I need one of those sacred pools back home.”

  Bush motioned to the cave. “Go inside. Stay hidden while Bush get food and friends. Other guests arrive soon.”

  Who was I to argue? I brushed off the remaining bits of snow and headed back in.

  Gary was sitting with his sketch pad, scribbling away while Fluff pointed at various things and said what they meant, albeit in a hyperactive Red Bull sort of way.

  “Sacred red tree!” she cried as she bolted by one pictograph.

  “I can’t get over the warm snow,” I said as I took a seat across from him, trying not to focus on the fact that Gary had somehow gone from not to hot over the space of one bath.

  “It’s a type of enhancement magic. The Magi use a variation of it to keep from freezing our bits off during sky clad ceremonies,” he replied, not bothering to look up from his sketch. I vaguely wondered if he was avoiding looking at me, too.

  “So have you, um, you know, done that?”

  “Danced around naked to cast a spell?” He shook his head. “Mercifully no, but rumor has it that Professor O’Shea at Amherst always makes his students do a midnight ritual in the buff for midterms. Needless to say, I’m glad I transferred.”

  Before I even realized I was doing so, I’d inched closer. “I dunno, if the classes were co-ed. . .”

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Never better.”

  “I’m not sure. I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but I think this particular enhancement might be having some unintended side effects.” He glanced at me and his cheeks immediately flushed.

  “Warm soul, warm bodies,” Bush said once again, entering the cave, this time carrying a tray full of what I hoped was food. “Warm bodies make for warm loins, especially in the young.”

  “Oh!” And suddenly it made sense. Being immune to the cold came with a price—some heavy thirst. On the one hand it was a relief to hear, on the other . . . I wasn’t sure I liked having my buttons magically pushed.

  For now, though, I pushed thoughts of Gary’s . . . err, my loins aside and focused on the food Bush had brought us. Salad, okay. Trail mix, not bad. Some soup . . . oh, and there was a big ole bowl of grubs too, still squiggling among some bark and leaves.

  Bush pointed to the bugs and then indicated the steaming soup. “Good. Make cubs grow strong.” She stared at both of us expectantly. Gary looked like he wanted to die. Wimp.

  I remembered what Bush had said about females here being less than the males, then grabbed a couple of the biggest, fattest grubs. I plopped them into one of the bowls and grabbed a crude spoon made from bark. It’s just a shrimp. It is so just a yellow shrimp. “Down the hatch.”

  Thankfully, it wasn’t as bad as I was expecting—kinda nutty, and a texture somewhere between belly strips and scrambled eggs. Bush beamed with pride, but I was enjoying the look of delicious horror on Gary’s face far more.

  “Bark grub good food. Only the strong enjoy.” She slapped my back, nearly sending me toppling into soup. I dropped in a couple more bugs and grinned as Gary turned green.

  “You do us great honor by sharing a meal, Hairless Holy One. Most of your kind are not so brave.” Bush handed me some of the salad. Oh, it had ants still in it.

  “Mmm, crunchy.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Though the magical pool dulled the scent of the Sasquatches, it did nothing to stop the aroma of nicotine and tar. As a result, I smelled Phil returning, accompanied by Yush, before I saw her.

  They walked in and she nodded to me before stepping over to her nephew and giving him the once over. “Good. I see the spring of healing has done its job. No offense, Gare-bear, but you needed it, especially after the last few days.” She started to turn toward me, then added, “Oh, before I forget, I should probably mention for you two to be careful. The spring has some side effects, including making folks a bit—”

  “Ready to go?” I offered, then quickly added, “I mean, to get these talks started.”

  She nodded. “Soon enough, but first I wanted to make sure that we all have our cover stories clear. Gary, you’re here as my assistant, and nephew of course, and Jess is a novice adept here at her master’s behalf. I figured some simple half-truths would be the easiest to maintain.”

  “I thought we were supposed to stay hidden,” Gary said.

  “Not entirely. Magi are a curious bunch, not to mention the various other races that’ll be present. If anyone catches wind of you hiding, they’ll investigate, but if you wander around like a bunch of boring acolytes—”

  “Then nobody will care one way or the other,” Gary finished for his aunt.

  I must say, it made a certain amount of sense, but there was one flaw that I could see. “But won’t they tell I’m different?” I asked. “The . . . um, other guys were able to.” I wasn’t sure how much to let our hosts know. Yush seemed to be in the loop, but that didn’t mean the rest were. Seemed best to keep it subtle rather than mention their ancient enemies.

  “Magi strength come from within,” Yush said, slapping her chest. “Nature magic come from all around. Others will see and smell what they expect.” She clicked her tongue. “Still try not to get . . . angry.”

  Phil leaned in. “Yush came up wi
th a way to glamour you even without your wig. How best to explain it? Oh yeah, Gary, what’s that Internet thingy you set up at the loft?”

  “A mesh network?”

  “That works,” Phil said. “Think of this as mesh magic. Yush is going to create an illusion that’s powered by this very place and the trees around us, a little bit from each. It’ll change your scent.”

  “My scent? But what about my hair?”

  “Up here? Trust me, your hair color will be the last thing anyone stares at up here. Smelling like a normal Magi is much more important in this crowd. Best of all, it should work even when none of us are around. Just be careful to not lose control. If your hair starts to flare up—”

  “I get it, stay calm. I’ll do some cave yoga or something.”

  “Exactly. Stay calm. Stay out of trouble. Oh, and try not to get too freaked out by some of the things you might see here. You may think you’ve seen it all by this point, but you’ll soon find you’re dead wrong.”

  I knew she didn’t mean it that way, but I couldn’t help but get stuck on her phrasing.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  “Come, no need to wait. Bush show you sacred place.”

  “Floof come, too!”

  Phil had wandered off with Yush again. Apparently being invited to Sasquatch Central was not an everyday occurrence and she wanted to make the most out of it before the conference started.

  Gary opted to remain behind, but I was getting stir crazy and wanted to stretch my legs, so the three of us made our way out of the cave back into the grove of unnaturally occurring maple trees. “Trees mark great ancestors. Bush thank mighty ones that passed. Bush grateful to all.”

  Fluff bowed her head and I mimicked the gesture, although truth be told, I was far more mesmerized by the fact that I was walking practically barefoot in snow yet barely felt it.

  Bush continued on after a minute, and I had to scramble to keep up with her massive stride. She showed me where the clean running water flowed, warning me never to do my business in the bushes upstream.

  “Bless grove here. Need fertilizer and bushes have less thorns.”

  Good to know. Moving on, Bush took us to a grove with some different looking trees, these with much lower branches. Fluff immediately started swinging around and laughing.

  Bush watched her play, pride on her face . . . as far as I could tell. Soon, Fluff’s laugh became infectious and I felt the need to join her, climbing the trees.

  I was swinging upside down by my knees, noting that the magical hot tub sadly didn’t prevent chafing, when a loud cry echoed in the forest.

  Bush lifted her head and yowled in return. “Bush summoned by mate. Bush must go or raise suspicion. Floof, take Hairless Holy One back to cave.”

  “Can Floof and pretty play more? Please!”

  Another howl echoed in the forest, this one louder and more insistent. Bush nodded reluctantly. “Until sunset, then go back. No arguments. Trees will tell if Floof disobeys.” I had a strange feeling that wasn’t a euphemism.

  Bush snorted and took a few steps into the shadows of the forest, and then, without so much as a crunch, she vanished. Freaky, and darned useful. I bet Sasquatches never got grounded.

  Fluff and I played for a little while longer. I had just followed her in a swinging dismount, when there came another bellow in the woods, higher pitched than the last one but sounding a helluva lot closer.

  “What was that?”

  “Burp,” Fluff replied, making a mad leap into the tree. I wasn’t sure whether she was telling me something or had some intestinal distress, but whatever was going on, it was getting closer.

  Something let out a shriek of terror, then a small child, a little girl of maybe eight or nine, came tearing into the grove. What the. . .? She was wearing a tunic and running as if the devil himself were hot on her heels. The girl glanced behind her, tripped, and went tumbling into a snowbank as the trees shuddered.

  I took a step forward just as another Sasquatch stepped into the grove and charged her. I didn’t have time to think. I just dove and used the mix of mulch and snow as a slide, grabbing the girl and pulling her out of the way before she could be barreled over.

  I stood up and faced this newcomer. This Bigfoot was small, not quite as tiny as Fluff, but definitely not an adult either. We faced each other at roughly even height. Unlike Bush or Yush, pure anger shown on its face, covered in dark fur and . . . a mohawk? It was like all the fur grew backward on its neck and spine. Punk rock Sasquatches. What else was next?

  “YOU WILL PAY!” the Sasquatch bellowed.

  The kid trembled behind me as the ape roared again, beating his chest and generally throwing a hissy fit. I squared my stance and put myself firmly between it and the little girl. I spoke bully fluently.

  “Hey, you, Donkey Kong! Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”

  The Sasquatch snorted derisively then stomped his feet. “BURP CRUSH YOU!”

  Burp? So that’s what Fluff meant. I couldn’t help it. The giggles rose up on their own. It only got worse as I got an unfortunate glimpse of Bigfoot junk flapping between his legs. I am never going to unsee that, am I?

  He stepped toward me with arms raised, no doubt to make himself look bigger. “BURP MIGHTY! BURP STRONG—”

  Burp found himself the recipient of a kick straight in the family jewels. Sure, it was a bit trite, but to date it hadn’t failed me. The Bigfoot’s voice jumped up about three octaves as he clutched his crotch and fell to the ground.

  “Stay down,” I barked. Burp squeaked, hopped to his feet, and took a wild swing at me—telegraphing it from three miles away. I spun, delivering a roundhouse straight to his face. Ouch! It was like kicking a tree stump, but the monkey-boy went reeling.

  Fluff rushed to my side, squealing in apparent delight. “Pretty bested Burp!” She gasped. “Pretty is strong!”

  Burp, for his part, cowered before me, maybe with good reason. Red reflected in the snowbanks around us, and I had a sneaking suspicion I was the source. So much for keeping calm. It had taken less than half an hour for me to break my word and let my personal Phoenix Force out to play. The stench of urine reached my nose the same time I heard a trickling sound. “Oh, that’s not right.” I took a step back to avoid the growing stain of yellow snow surrounding Burp.

  “You felled a forest giant with a single blow!” the girl said, stepping into full view. I was about to correct her that Burp wasn’t exactly a giant, but I was too distracted by her green hair and red eyes. Guess Phil was right about my hair not standing out here. “Thank you, mighty warrior maiden with hair of fire!”

  “Um, you’re welcome?” I probably should’ve said something less lame, but this was already turning into a train wreck. What else could I possibly do to make things worse?

  “Burp hurt by mighty enemy!” the sasquatch moaned. “Not. . .”

  Oh no, he was not playing the victim card. “No fair? You were chasing after a little girl. Now stay down before I—”

  “Burp do as Pretty say!” Fluff added. “She mighty like Hugh Jackman.”

  Burp seemed to blanch at the sound of that name. Well, hell, for once my extensive pop culture knowledge could be useful.

  I raised my fists and gave him my best angry face. “Yeah, I know all about Hugh Jackman, even his not so good movies. So, unless you want to be on the receiving end of a fastball special, you’d best run off to wherever you came.”

  “Hugh Jackman?” Burp repeated incredulously. What? Did they get cable up here in the sticks or something? But whatever. . . It was probably magic or something. I gave him my best Logan style sneer and that seemed to do the trick. Damp and embarrassed, Burp slinked away into the shadows, proverbial tail between his legs.

  Once he was gone, I was finally able to turn to my interesting new acquaintance and take in the fact that she wasn’t nearly as human as I’d first assumed.

  A row of spikes jutted along each of her arms, green to match her hair. She noticed me s
taring then mouthed “Oops” and they retracted beneath her skin. Whoa. “Please forgive me. The forest spirit startled me, and I prickled him. It was an accident, I swear.”

  “I don’t care if you stuck him where the sun don’t shine. There is no excuse for him to lose his temper like that. Are you okay?”

  Fluff stepped in and bowed before the girl. Huh? Was I missing something here? “Floof greet you, blessed spirit. Floof pray that Burp did not offend. Burp stupid, no brains.”

  The little girl raised her fist across her chest then bowed. “Thank you, Floof. I am Bougainvillea of the Southern Reaches.”

  “Bougainvillea . . . like the vine?”

  She nodded. “You may call me Boo, mighty one.”

  Um, should I bow or something? I ended up half curtseying, half bowing. “I’m Jessie Flores.”

  “Mighty Jessie, Conqueror of Burp!” Boo cried to the heavens. Hearing it that way, it sounded more like I’d conquered a glass of ginger ale than a Sasquatch. “I must thank you properly! Come, please come with me!”

  “I’m sorry, but we really have to be getting back to our friends and the cave—”

  “Oh no, oh no, it cannot be so. My debt to you must be paid, or I shall be shamed, and shame is most intolerable. Please, please great Conqueror of Burp, do not make me do the walk of shame.”

  I had a suspicion my emotions were being played, but Fluff seemed taken in. “Must not anger great forest spirits. Grave dishonor.”

  I was about to point out that this Burp character had no problem pummeling this forest spirit, much less angering her, but Bougainvillea stared at me, wide-eyed and sniffly. Fine! Besides, this might be my only chance to meet a greater forest spirit on good terms, and it was a peace conference, after all. Might as well not purposely rile the natives.

  “Well, I wouldn’t want you to get in any trouble, Boo.”

  “Excellent!” Boo cried. “We will go at once, and in a manner befitting a conqueror.” She turned and let out a long whistle.

  Before I could ask if she was calling some sort of magical Uber for us, something else bounded into the clearing, derailing any and all thought from my head. I saw a mane of rainbow hair, topped by a horn of pure white, all attached to the most majestic creature I’d ever seen.