by F. T. Lukens
Pavel’s eyebrows shot up. “What did you say?”
“He’s amazing?”
“No. He was called?”
“Yeah, he said that. He’s pretty much the personification of kindness and selflessness and beauty.”
Nia’s wings fluttered violently; purple sparks rained on Bridger’s head. Pavel gave her a look, and she flew off, a trail of glitter behind her.
“What else?”
“Um… He likes football? And the team and the coach. He says coach is a great mentor. Oh, and because of Leo, our team has a shot at going to the state tournament.”
“And he saved you from the mermaids.”
“You saved me from the mermaids,” Bridger said.
“He came with me, and I wager, if I didn’t show up, he would’ve gone back in after you.”
Nia flew back in, carrying the massive book from the library. She dropped it on the table, which rattled the tray and sent the plate to the rug. Bridger was thankful he held his tea, or it would’ve ended up on the floor. Nia held out her tiny hand. The book flopped open, and the pages flipped furiously.
Pavel paced in front of the board.
“Turn it to hag.”
The pages suddenly stopped, and, in sprawling script, Bridger made out the word ‘hag’ followed by two pages. The information in Bridger’s book was condensed into a paragraph with notes crammed into margins and footnotes. This book was fat and huge and definitive. Bridger had a field guide. This was a compendium.
Fingers steepled, Elena sat forward. “What are you thinking, Pasha?”
Yeah, what was Pavel thinking? Leo wasn’t a hag. He didn’t look like one or smell like one unless he could hide that. How could he hide that? He couldn’t. There’s no way. Bridger would remember that stench for the rest of his life—and the image of her bones visible through desiccated flesh.
Bridger squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, which only slightly hitched. He drank more tea.
“Hags are more than nightmares. In certain myths, they are helpers. They appear to designated individuals to help them on a quest, usually giving them an artifact or a purpose.”
“Well, that’s not why she was there,” Bridger said, opening his eyes. “Was it?”
“What did she say to you?”
“I impeded her.”
“You stood in her way and impeded her path to Leo.”
Bridger sat up. “What are you implying, Pavel?”
Pavel sighed. He ran a hand through his dark hair. “Leo is a hero.”
Nia gasped. Elena’s hand flew to her mouth.
“Yeah, we all know he’s a hero. That’s his nickname at school. Leo the hero. That’s not a secret.”
“No,” Pavel said, shaking his head. He nodded to Nia, and the pages of the book flipped again. “He’s a hero.”
Bridger’s gaze dropped to the book and in the same script, at the top of a page, was the word Hero.
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Heroes don’t last long.” Nia fluttered closer to Bridger, her expression one of sorrow. “Think Achilles and King Arthur.”
Bridger furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand.”
“I think I’m going to leave for this part,” Elena said, standing. She brushed past Pavel; her hand trailed over his shoulders. “I’ll go check in on the others. I’ll talk to you later, Pasha. Bye, Nia. Bridger.”
Bridger set his tea on the ground and squared his shoulders. “Why is everyone acting like someone died?”
Pavel poorly hid a wince. Nia sat on the edge of the table, the tips of her wings sagged slightly, and the only word Bridger could use to describe the look she gave him was pitying.
“Every myth has a cycle.” Pavel walked closer and trailed his fingertips over the edge of the tome. “For a hero, the cycle has been studied quite extensively, and we know the basic stages and trials a hero must go through to complete his journey.” Pavel flipped the delicate page; the vellum whispering over to reveal an annotated circle with text notes and illustrations. The heading was The Hero Cycle. Bridger leaned closer and squinted and made out the first few notes—“the call” and “the refusal.”
That matched. Leo said he was called to move, but he didn’t want to at first and refused. The next two stages mentioned supernatural aid and finding a mentor.
“Okay, so he was called and he refused. Where’s the supernatural aid?”
Pavel arched an eyebrow. “The gift of the St. Christopher medal. It’s a gift of protection.”
Leo had recounted the story to Pavel. Then finding a mentor—the football coach—whom Leo said he looked up to.
Bridger swallowed. His gaze continued around the cycle and noted “temptation” as the next stage and, at the bottom of the circle, in dark ink, written large and imposing—“Death.”
Bridger stood up quickly. His knee knocked into the table and he stepped away, hands up, trembling.
“Death?”
Pavel nodded, expression grim. “Though not every hero experiences every stage… death is inevitable.”
Aghast, Bridger stepped back until his shoulder blades hit the opposite wall. Blood drained from his head, and he pressed his hands against the plaster to keep from falling.
“Explain.”
“Death could be real or metaphorical. Arthur was mortally wounded at Camlann and awaits in Avalon for the moment of his return—when Britain needs him most. His story doesn’t have a resurrection or rebirth stage yet—though we’re hopeful. But Psyche traveled to the underworld and returned, resurrected by Cupid, and obtained divinity,” Pavel said, voice calm. “Achilles rests in the Happy Isles with several other heroes, alive and well in another realm.”
Bridger shook his head. “Those examples suck.”
Pavel cocked his head.
“Because they’re all still death! That means Leo would be in another realm, away from here, away from me.”
“Those are only a few cases,” Nia said, fluttering into the air. “In many others the hero experiences a metaphorical death and emerges from the loss better than before. Resurrection or rebirth is the next stage.”
“But we don’t know for Leo,” Bridger said.
Nia looked away, shoulders falling. “No. We don’t know for Leo. For some myths death is the end of the story.”
“And the appearance of the howler doesn’t swing the pendulum in favor of metaphorical death either.”
Bridger ached all over. His body was cold and empty, his stomach dropped to his toes, and it wasn’t because of the night before. He couldn’t handle the thought of Leo… he didn’t even want to think it. He didn’t want to broach it at all. No. No. This was not happening. This was not going to happen.
“This is bullshit!”
Pavel sighed. He rubbed his fingers over his eyes. “Bridger,” he said, his tone a touch admonishing, but Bridger didn’t let him finish.
“No. You’re wrong about this.” Pavel and Nia were right. Everything lined up. “You have to be wrong.”
“Pasha,” Nia said, walking lightly over the pages, “this doesn’t explain our problem. Why are the rest of us out of our cycles because of one young hero?”
Bridger latched onto to Nia’s question like a drowning man clutching an emergency float.
“Yeah! That doesn’t explain why the other myths are out of whack. Leo being a hero doesn’t explain that. His status means nothing.”
Pavel threw out his arms. “Yes, it does! He’s stuck and it’s because of you.” Pavel pointed right at the word “temptation” and leveled his gaze on Bridger.
Bridger’s throat went dry. Temptation. Temptation. Oh, no.
“I’m…?”
Pavel nodded.
“How do you…?”
“If we assume the hag was not there to steal power an
d breath from dreams, but there as a guide to Leo, then we can also assume she was there to spur Leo forward. He’s halted in his progress. His first four steps happened before he left his home in Puerto Rico, but he crossed the threshold when he moved here and has not progressed since.”
“I’m the temptation?” Bridger laughed. Saying it out loud was absurd. He wasn’t a temptation. He couldn’t be… he was so… him. But… he had been conflicted and he had almost kissed Leo and then pulled away. In truth, they had danced around each other for a while now, and Leo admitted that he’d liked Bridger since the first day of senior year. Oh. Oh, no. “To summarize—Leo is a hero and he is on a quest that follows this—” Bridger gestured toward the book “—circular path thing. But he’s stuck in the temptation stage because of me and since he hasn’t moved forward in months, that’s throwing the other myths out of whack?”
“Essentially, yes,” Pavel said with a shrug.
“That is literally the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“It may be unorthodox, but it’s the truth. It’s what is happening. And we need to fix it. We need to move Leo along in the cycle.”
“Toward death? You want to move toward death? That’s cold, even for you.”
“It’s what has to happen, Bridger. Or we risk the existence of an entire world because of one boy. Leo has to progress in the cycle. If that means death, then that’s what it means.”
“No, no.” Bridger jabbed his finger in Pavel’s direction. “Grandma Alice said you didn’t know everything. And you admit you don’t know everything because of your inexperience. So no. No. You’re wrong.”
Pavel rubbed his eyes. “Bridger—”
“No, this is bullshit! You’re so full of crap. That book is wrong.”
“It’s not wrong. It’s thousands of years of knowledge. You can’t refute it and you can’t change it.”
“No, I… I’m going to do something. Leo isn’t going to die. He can’t. He’s my friend and he’s the best person. And… he likes me.”
“I know you’re upset.”
“Understatement!” Bridger’s chest heaved. “I’m… I’m… I don’t have the words for what I am right now.”
Pavel frowned. “You’ve had a trying few days. You need to go home and rest.”
“Why? Trying to get rid of me? What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to do my job and protect the myths.”
“You’re going to unstick him? You’re going to kill him?”
Pavel put his hands in his pockets and wouldn’t meet Bridger’s gaze. “I’m going to do what I have to.”
“Or are you going to kill me? Remove the temptation?”
Pavel’s head snapped up. “I would never.”
“Oh, so killing me is too far, but you would kill Leo. You’d kill a teenager. Someone with their whole life ahead of them. You’d go that far. You’d protect monsters over a hero. Worse, you’d turn yourself into one.”
Pavel stepped forward, hands clenched at his sides, body pulled taut. Bridger’s eyes widened. He’d gone too far. And he faced something scarier than the hag. Pavel was mild-mannered and good-natured on a stressful day, and it was that type of person who became truly frightening when finally pushed too far.
“Do you think this is easy?” Pavel’s accent thickened. His visage changed, and Bridger smelled ozone and magic, could feel the pulse of it emanating from Pavel. “In a century of performing my duties and with everything I’ve seen, the truly malicious, the truly benevolent, I’ve never destroyed an innocent myth. Never. But given the choice between ending one myth and the world that I’m a part of, the world of unicorns and faeries and magic, I’d choose that one myth.”
“You’re wrong. And I’m not going to let you.”
Pavel’s gaze sharpened. “You will not interfere.”
“I will.” Bridger stuck out his chin. “If you do this, you will have to go through me first.”
“This is bigger than a childhood crush. This is bigger than a fledgling affair.” Pavel stalked forward. “This is bigger than one immature teenager.”
Bridger bristled. “I may be an immature teenager, but I’m not giving up. I will find a way. And you and your relics can suck it.”
Pavel’s expression darkened. An elemental breeze danced around the room, swirling dust motes and ruffling paper. The air grew dense, heavy with magic and promise. “Don’t get in my way, Bridger.”
Holy hell. Pavel could pull off ominous when he wanted to. But Bridger was not going to back down. This was Leo’s life.
“You don’t have to worry about me. I qui—”
Nia flew up and pinched Bridger’s mouth closed with a strong grip for such deceptively tiny hands and arms.
“Don’t,” she warned. “Don’t say that.”
Bridger flinched away from her. She let go, but he kept his lips clamped shut. He brushed past her and knocked his shoulder hard into Pavel’s. It was like hitting a brick, and Bridger grumbled as he grabbed his bag and tossed it over one shoulder.
“Thanks for the job and the lessons and, you know, the conversation when we met the sasquatch. But I can’t be a part of this.”
“You’re welcome. And thank you for being a friend.”
Bridger turned away.
“Be careful,” Pavel added, voice soft. “Please.”
Bridger nodded once, not meeting Pavel’s gaze, then he left the room and thundered down the stairs.
As he hit the first floor, the door swung open, and Astrid walked in. Bran hovered over her shoulder, laughing, high-pitched and hysterical.
Astrid brightened. “Bridger! You’re awake! I’ve had a pixie in my backpack all day. There is glitter everywhere.” She smiled, absolutely delighted, and Bran effervesced, blue sparks falling in a shimmering curtain.
“I ate pop tarts,” Bran said. “They were amazing. Next time you go to the store, I want a case. An entire case of every flavor.”
Bridger strode past the pair of them and headed for the door.
“Bridge? Are you okay?”
“I’m leaving.”
“Oh,” Astrid said. She paused a moment, and Bridger cast a look over his shoulder. Her nose scrunched in confusion, and she exchanged a quick look with Bran before following. “Hold on. I’ll give you a ride.”
Bridger didn’t break his stride. He was out the door and on the path in the weed-strewn lawn in moments with Astrid right behind him. The heavy front door slammed shut, the sound loud and final.
“What’s going on?”
“I’ll tell you in the car.”
Astrid shadowed him, strangely submissive, but she didn’t argue. She unlocked the door, and Bridger threw his body in the front seat. He bit his lip, willed down all the thoughts and emotions threatening to choke him.
Leo had to die.
Leo had to die.
Leo had to die.
To finish the hero cycle. To keep the other myths from acting out. To keep them hidden. To keep them safe.
And Bridger had to stop it. Somehow.
He had to defy his boss, his mentor, his friend, who had magic and knowledge and a werewolf best friend and pixies at his disposal.
Bridger had to keep Leo safe.
On his own.
Fuck.
Chapter 12
They sat in Astrid’s car in Bridger’s driveway. She had killed the engine about thirty minutes ago and sat in stunned silence.
“Leo is—”
“Yeah.”
“And you are—”
“Yeah.”
“And Pavel is going to—”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re going to try and stop it from happening?”
“I have to.”
She nodded, her blue hair bouncing around her chin. “And to keep Leo fro
m progressing toward death—metaphorical or otherwise—you’re going to do what exactly?”
Bridger tapped his fingers along the dashboard. “I don’t know.”
“You could tell him?”
Bridger leveled a withering glare at her. “Tell him he’s a hero, and there is an entire other world of fantastic beings, and he’s a part of it? You think that would work?”
She narrowed her eyes. “If you’re going to snark at me, then I won’t help. But fine. I get it. Telling him is out unless we can get one of the pixies to tag along.”
“And even then, what would that do? Leo would jump right into death if he knew it would help other people.” Bridger let his head fall back against the head rest. “No, that’s out.”
“All right. Next idea?”
Blowing out a breath, which made his blond bangs flare up then fall back, Bridger rolled his head and shrugged. “Well, I’ll be the best damn temptation I can, I guess.”
“Very idea. Much confidence. Wow.”
“Not helping.”
“Sorry. That… uh… shouldn’t be too hard? He likes you.”
“Yeah.” Bridger slumped back in the seat, wishing he could dissolve into the fake leather and pretend he didn’t exist.
Astrid turned slightly and eyed him. “You’d have to be out.”
“Yeah.” It was the only word Bridger could consistently muster. His stomach churned, bile tickled the back of his throat, and the cheeseburger threatened an encore appearance.
“You’d be okay with that? You’ve been… well… it’s been a struggle.”
“To put it mildly,” Bridger said. “But yeah. I’ve been thinking about it anyway. I could do it.”
He could. He totally could. He’d need to tell his mom. That would be the hardest part—the possibility of letting her down, of her being ashamed of him. At school, the football team, including Zeke who was physically massive but also popular, would have his back. And everyone loved Leo already; he’d only have to deal with a side-eye or two. And those glances would be more about that someone like Leo would go out with him—skinny, weirdo Bridger, who almost drowned in the lake and who had a huge falling out with his best friend in the middle of the cafeteria—instead of choosing any of the girls and guys who climbed all over Leo daily.
