The Rules and Regulations for Mediating Myths & Magic

by F. T. Lukens

  Bridger nodded, not even commenting on maidenly thoughts. They split up; Pavel headed toward the center of the Commons while Bridger looped around the outside.

  The Commons was a big planned community. It was acres and acres of parking lot between interconnected buildings of restaurants, stores, hotels, theaters, and apartments. It was surrounded by a large border of trees with walking paths and a manmade river running through it. Patrons could park their cars and spend an entire day just walking around. Bridger liked to drop by with Astrid, hit the comic book store, and catch a movie, before eating dinner from one of the food carts. Maybe they’d splurge for gourmet ice cream.

  In that sense, it was a great place.

  It wasn’t so great when hunting a unicorn.

  Hands in pockets and head down as he wove in and out of the foot traffic, Bridger followed the slick rainbow trail. No one else noticed the shimmering track, and he realized they wouldn’t unless he pointed it out. As Pavel had said, it was the way human brains were wired, dismissing the impossible unless confronted directly with it.

  The path led Bridger to an alley between the bookstore and the back of the theater. The street lights didn’t penetrate the shadows; the sun had dipped below the horizon, and the moon hung as a sliver in the sky. The hair on the back of Bridger’s neck rose.

  He stopped and gulped. This was a spot that was only traveled by employees and people trying to sneak into the movie theater, so it might be a good place to rest for a unicorn that, for whatever reason, was running rampant in a heavily populated area.

  “Hey,” he whispered. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Yes, great idea. Reassure a creature with a giant sharp horn on its head. It’s sure to be terrified of a scrawny human.

  Bridger heard a sound, discordant and strange like a bell struck by a rock. He reached into his pocket and flipped open his mirror. “Pavel,” he whispered. Nothing happened. Frowning, he looked at the mirror. “Call Pavel. Crap. How do you work?” He tapped the mirror with his finger, then shook the compact. “Call the pixies. Um… abracadabra? Hocus pocus. Freaking do what you’re supposed to!”

  He heard the strange sound several times in succession. It filled the small space and rang in his ears, and he snapped his head up.

  Bridger’s jaw dropped. In front of him was the most beautiful creature he’d seen in his entire short life. A unicorn, an actual unicorn, stood a few feet away. It stamped its hooves. The clang of them striking the pavement was the sound he had heard—the dissonance of magic against asphalt. It tossed its head; its white mane flowed over its sleek white fur. The horn, long and beautiful, gleamed in the moonlight. The unicorn stared at Bridger, and Bridger tentatively held out his hand.

  “Hi,” Bridger said, voice trembling, hand shaking. “I heard a rumor that you’re a fan of abstinence. To be clear, it’s not by choice, but hey, you take what you can get, right?”

  The unicorn tossed its head. It took a hesitant step forward.

  “Oh, wow! You’re so pretty. I can’t believe that I am going to touch a unicorn. Astrid would never believe it. I am scarcely believing it myself.”

  The unicorn inched forward and ducked its head. The dangerous point of its horn was almost skewering Bridger’s arm, but Bridger didn’t flinch. The unicorn blew out a breath, and the sensation of it brushing over Bridger’s hand was like the tingle of the ward, magic scraping over his skin. It bumped its velvet nose against the back of Bridger’s hand. Bridger’s knuckles, then his fingertips, brushed against the soft fur.

  Bridger smiled, then laughed lightly as the magic pulsed over him. A warm wave of peace and light and joy filled him, crashed over him, wrapped him up in the impossible. It was fresh green grass in the spring and the hush of snow falling in the winter and the warmth of the bright sun and the smell of rain. The world fell away, and Bridger existed in a bubble of exquisite happiness where the worries of his life couldn’t touch him, where noise fuzzed out into nothingness and his senses narrowed to the brilliant white of the unicorn’s mane and the soft magic under his fingertips.

  He rubbed his palm over the unicorn’s neck, and it snorted. Bridger’s cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. His whole body shivered, and the stress he carried in his shoulders and spine bled out of him while he touched the unicorn’s soft white coat. He forgot about the money he needed for tuition, and he forgot about all the nights he spent at home alone, and he forgot about the pressure of coming out at school and to his mom. The worries about being different, and the scars from his father leaving, and the fear of never meeting expectations disappeared in the sweet perfumed mist of the unicorn’s breath.

  The mirror rang.

  The bubble burst.

  The unicorn reared as the sound of a thousand fire alarms roared from Bridger’s pocket; the horn came close to spearing him, and the hooves struck hard against the pavement. Scrambling back, he fumbled for the mirror and flipped it open. Pavel’s face lit up the glass.

  “Bridger—”

  “I touched it. I touched the unicorn. It’s here.”

  “It’s in front of you? It let you touch it? That’s great! Do you think you can lure it to the forest?”

  Blowing angrily, the unicorn danced and strutted away; its whole demeanor had changed in an instant. Uh oh. Did he disrespect it by answering the call and not giving it his full attention? Was it because of Pavel’s choice of words? Oh, crap. Who knew magical horses understood human speech?

  “Yeah,” Bridger nodded. “It did, but uh… it might have changed its mind.”

  Angry snorts and the ringing clop of hooves echoed through the small space as the unicorn paced, tossing its head. The unicorn stood on its hind legs and neighed loud and long before falling forward. Eyes large and round, it lowered its horn and pawed at the ground. Bridger’s pulse shot through the roof when he realized he blocked the only way out.

  “I thought unicorns were docile.”

  “Bridger,” Pavel said, hearing the commotion. “Run.”

  “Run?”

  “Yes, now. Run now!”

  The unicorn charged.

  Bridger yelped and took off. He cut a quick right before tearing toward the trees on the outskirts of the development. Clutching the mirror in his hand, with his hoodie flapping madly behind him, he tried not to focus on the loud hooves and neighs following him. As luck would have it, the way to the hiking path was empty, so at least he wasn’t endangering anyone else.

  “Pavel! What now?”

  “Don’t get trampled!”

  “Are you serious?”

  Bridger glanced over his shoulder. The unicorn was gaining. Its horn gleamed in the scant moonlight and its mane flowed as it lowered its head to gore him.

  Great, he would piss off a unicorn with a chip on its shoulder.

  Bridger thanked his soccer coach for all the sprints they’d run last season and tried to kick his speed up a notch. His legs pumped; his jeans restricted his movement slightly as his shoes slapped the sidewalk. He ran because his life depended on it, eating up ground with his strides, coming up fast on the entrance to the wooded walking paths, but it was no use. He was only human.

  The unicorn gained on him.

  There was no way he was going to outrun a magic horse, even on a good day.

  He was going to die.

  The trees loomed in front of him. Bridger hoped he could at least get to the perimeter before he was killed, because it would inevitably be messy and he wanted a little dignity. Of course, he stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk. He fell to his knees and pitched to the side, rolled off the sidewalk, and tumbled head over heels down an embankment into the brush. A second later the unicorn sprinted past, rainbow sparks from its hooves flaring where Bridger had been a mere moment before. Bridger watched from his position on his back in a pile of twigs and leaves.

  He scrambled up the hill on his hands and knees. F
ingers sinking into the loamy soil, chest heaving, he peered out, looking for the unicorn. He caught a quick flash of brilliant white between nearby trees, then it was gone.

  Holy hell, it had worked. It had actually worked!

  “Bridger! Bridger! Where are you? Are you okay?”

  Pavel’s voice was tinny coming from the mirror. Bridger had dropped it during his fall and brushed through leaves and twigs until he found it.

  He picked it up and saw Pavel, out of breath, frantically looking around.

  “I’m here,” Bridger said in a gust. He waved weakly. “I fell.”

  Pavel’s gaze snapped to the mirror, and then he sighed, obviously relieved. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I think?” Bridger took stock. He patted down his body and, other than a few bruises and scrapes and a lot of dirt and mud, he was okay. “I’m good. Out of breath and shaking, but good.”

  “Where’s the unicorn?”

  “It ran off. Into the woods.”

  “It did?”

  Bridger nodded. Twigs fell from his hair. “Yeah, it did. After it tried to gore me, but, you know. Yay? Mission accomplished.”

  Pavel’s mouth inched into a smile. “I owe you. How about a coffee? Cookies?”

  “Ice cream,” Bridger said definitively. “You owe me so much gourmet ice cream.”

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  Smiling, Bridger agreed. He snapped the mirror shut and climbed to his feet. He pushed through the undergrowth, brushed down his hoodie and jeans, and emerged to the sidewalk—right into Leo.

  “Bridger?” Leo asked, steadying Bridger with a hand on his elbow.

  Bridger laughed, nearly hysterical, because—of course. Of freaking course. Certain it was sticking up in places, he swiped his hand through his sweaty hair, and more leaves fell on his shoulders.

  “Hey, Leo,” Bridger said, flashing a charming smile. “Fancy meeting you and your entire group of football players here.”

  Bridger glanced at the ten teenagers standing behind Leo’s shoulder. Zeke crossed his arms, biceps bulging underneath his school jacket. Lacey hung on his arm and glared daggers. Either they had a real problem with Bridger popping up randomly or… No, that was probably it.

  Leo smiled. “I thought you were at Astrid’s game?”

  “I was, but I was called into work. My boss needed help with one of his clients, and I’m supposed to meet him here. At the fancy ice-cream parlor.”

  Leo pointed to the woods. “What were you doing down there, then?”

  Attacking a stubborn clump of dirt on his knee, Bridger quirked his lips. “Would you believe that I tripped and fell?”

  Leo gaped, then laughed, and it was gorgeous. “Actually, yeah, I do believe it.” He released Bridger’s arm, but the scorch of his touch remained.

  “And thanks for laughing at my pain,” Bridger said.

  Leo shrugged, smiling wide. He didn’t apologize, and Bridger had the sudden realization that Leo had indeed become used to his brand of joking. Oh. His middle fluttered, and, for a quick second, it was like petting the unicorn.

  “So,” Bridger said, hands in his pockets, “how was the movie?”

  “Decidedly horrible,” Leo said, grinning. “You would’ve liked it. Astrid would’ve loved it.”

  “I’ll add it to my watch list.”

  “If you two are done.” Lacey cut in. She pouted. “I’d like to make it to the ice-cream parlor myself. Zeke promised me chocolate.”

  “Oh, oh yeah. I’ll walk with you guys. If that’s okay?”

  Zeke brushed past, knocking his shoulder into Bridger’s. Bridger rubbed the sore spot because, wow, was that guy huge. “The sidewalk is public property. Do what you want.”

  Leo sighed and shook his head. “Excuse him. He’s upset because we didn’t have practice today, and he wasn’t allowed a chance to release his pent-up aggression.”

  “Shove it, Leo!” Zeke called.

  The group walked past, and Leo hung back, waiting until they were a few feet ahead, before gesturing for Bridger to walk with him. Bridger fell in step, and they knocked shoulders a few times as they crossed the Commons toward the ice-cream parlor.

  Bridger needed to say something. Anything. Only a few minutes ago, he had touched a unicorn and then had been chased by it, but he couldn’t tell Leo, despite how magical it was. But this, walking with Leo, their arms brushing, the night sky lit with stars, and the air crisp with a fall chill, was equally as awesome.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t come tonight.”

  Leo tipped his head back. “It’s okay, Bridge. There’ll be other times.”

  “Yeah?” Bridger asked, hopeful.

  Leo met his gaze. “Yeah.”

  Bridger smiled, giddy, and, if he hadn’t been almost gored by a unicorn less than an hour ago, that moment would’ve been the most remarkable of his day. As it was, it ranked a very close second.

  They approached the gourmet ice-cream parlor and Bridger spotted Pavel pacing. He looked ragged and worried and had a smear of blood across his face. Patrons gave him a wide berth, and, as Bridger walked closer, he could hear Pavel muttering under his breath. Oh, yeah, not conspicuous at all.

  “Hey, is that your—”

  “Yep,” Bridger said. “Pavel,” he called.

  Pavel snapped his head up, and the relief on his was stark. Pavel crossed the few feet between them and grabbed Bridger’s shoulders.

  “There you are,” he said. He looked Bridger up and down. “Well, you don’t look worse for wear.”

  “I only fell, Pavel. No need to get all protective.”

  “Fell? Did you hit your head? You were almost—”

  “You remember Leo, right?”

  Pavel blinked and released Bridger. His posture straightened when he noticed Leo. He looked at Leo and then at Bridger, and Bridger made a face. He inwardly pleaded with Pavel to act normal.

  “Yes,” Pavel said, holding out his hand. “From the beach. You assisted with pulling Bridger from the lake. Of course.”

  Leo took Pavel’s hand and shook hard. Pavel spread his fingers, frowned, and shoved his hand in his overcoat pocket.

  “You’re Bridger’s boss.” Leo said it as a statement.

  “Yes, I am. He’s a great assistant. Couldn’t ask for better.”

  Bridger laughed. “I don’t need a reference, Pavel. Leo’s my… friend. We ran into each other on my walk over here.”

  “Literally,” Leo offered. He smiled.

  Pavel cocked his head and made a small noise.

  That was weird. Why did he have to make this weird?

  “Anyway,” Leo said, lightly punching Bridger on the arm, “I’ll let you get back to work.”

  “Yeah, okay. I’m glad we ran into each other.” Bridger blushed. “Literally.”

  “Me, too.”

  Pavel said, “Actually, the emergency I had has changed. I found a solution, temporary as it may be.” Pavel gave Bridger a significant glance. “But I am so sorry I called you away from your event for nothing. Here,” Pavel said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out his wallet and thumbed through the bills. “Take this for your trouble. Buy ice cream for yourself and your friend.”

  Bridger blushed to the roots of his hair, but accepted the money Pavel all but shoved at him. “Pavel, are you sure? Do you need my help with research or anything?”

  “No, not right now. Tomorrow, after school.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m positive. Thank you for your assistance tonight.” He looked at Leo; his gaze lingered. “It was a pleasure to meet you again.”

  “Thanks?” Leo said.

  Bridger waved goodbye when Pavel turned on his heel and all but ran away. Bridger took it all in stride, even the over-generous wad of bills in his hand, and smiled at
Leo.

  “Ice cream? I’m buying.”

  “I can’t in good conscience turn down free ice cream.”

  “Good.” Bridger gestured for Leo to enter the store first.

  “Hey, Bridge? Your boss is weird, right? I just want to confirm.”

  “Leo, my friend, you don’t know the half of it. But he’s a good guy. A little out of touch and really busy, but a nice guy.”

  “Good to know.”

  They bought ice cream. Leo ordered a shake and Bridger ordered a monstrosity of a sundae that he ended up sharing with half of the football team. They laughed and joked and, despite his outsider status, the group accepted Bridger without comment. Leo stayed snug against Bridger’s side, and Zeke didn’t look as if he wanted to kill Bridger, which was a bonus in Bridger’s book.

  Zeke gave them both a ride home. Squished into the back of his tiny car, Bridger was pretty much in Leo’s lap. They sang along to bad music; Leo made up lyrics in Spanish when they didn’t know the real ones, and Lacey rolled her eyes from the front seat.

  Zeke pulled up in front of Leo’s house, and Bridger and Leo spilled from the two-door. Leo caught Bridger around the waist when his foot snagged on the seatbelt. They laughed again, drunk on sugar and proximity, and Zeke sped away, flicking them off from his window as went.

  “For an impromptu outing, this was so much fun,” Bridger said, clutching Leo’s shoulders.

  Leo laughed. “It’s so late. My parents are going to murder me.”

  “God, I hope not.”

  “Me, too.” Leo smiled. “I had fun.”

  Leo hadn’t let go, and neither had Bridger. They leaned close, standing in the darkened street of their neighborhood, under the twinkling stars and street lights.

  “I really like you, Bridger,” Leo confessed.

  Bridger blushed. Oh, he was giddy, and happy, and confused. He patted Leo’s arm. “I really like you, too.” Saying it out loud made it real, and Bridger was both nauseated and elated. He couldn’t tell which, but it didn’t matter, because this was a moment.