Page 10 of Guarded By the Bigfoot
“Get everyone inside,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “Now.”
“Everyone, this way! Find?—”
The howl came again, cutting me off. Closer. Much closer. This time, I saw what happened when it hit: the air itself seemed to ripple, like heat waves off hot pavement, but different somehow. Darker.
The lights flickered, and somewhere in the crowd, a child started crying.
“Parker.” Brock’s voice had an edge I hadn’t heard before. “Inside. Now.”
But I was watching the ripple in the air, the way it twisted and stretched, like smoke trying to take shape. “Yeah, that’s not happening. Whatever this is, you’re going to need help.”
The ripple solidified, forming something that wasn’t natural. Smoke coiled into a massive hound with glowing red eyes and teeth like jagged shadows. Its paws left scorch marks on the cobblestones as it stalked forward.
“Inside!” Brock’s voice boomed across the square, sending villagers scrambling. A few lingered at the edges, watching with wide eyes.
“Brock?” I yelled, backing up until I was beside him. “What is this?”
“This,” he replied, not taking his eyes off the creature, “is the part where you run.”
“Yeah, that’s still not happening.” I scanned the square, cataloging possible weapons. Festival props, wooden stalls, strings of lanterns. Not exactly ideal monster-fighting gear. “Any tips for fighting smoke-dogs from hell, or should I just improvise?”
The hound lunged.
I dove right as Brock went left, the creature’s jaws snapping at the empty air between us. It moved like smoke but hit like solid mass; I felt the rush of wind as it passed me.
“The lanterns,” Brock called out. “Pull them down if you can.”
I didn’t need telling twice. While he positioned himself between the hounds and the remaining villagers, I grabbed a fallen pole, angling it to catch the sunlight. The nearest creature flinchedback, giving me the opening I needed to yank a string of lanterns from a nearby stall.
Glass shattered across the cobblestones, each shard catching and scattering the late afternoon sun. Where the light touched the shadows, the hounds hissed and recoiled.
Then Brock moved.
Light burst from his hands, pure and brilliant, brighter than anything I’d ever seen. The hounds screamed, a sound like tearing metal as their shadowy forms unraveled.
The display of power was magnificent. Terrifying. Beautiful. I couldn’t look away as he commanded the light, driving back the darkness until the square was silent once more.
When it was over, he stumbled slightly, sinking onto the edge of the fire pit. Without thinking, I caught his arm to steady him.
Standing between his knees, I found myself at eye level with him. His gaze locked with mine, and the air between us felt charged. His eyes dropped to my lips, and his hand came up, thumb brushing my cheek.
The memory of his power, his secrets, flashed through my mind. With effort that physically hurt, I stepped back.
“That was... impressive,” I said, my voice still rough.
“You helped,” he replied, his voice softer but distant, his focus already shifting to the ridge.
“What now?”
“I have to check the fracture.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No.” The word came out sharp, final, his gaze pinning me where I stood. “You’re not.”
“And you should know by now,” I said, refusing to back down, “I don’t take orders.”
“Parker...” His voice dropped, low and firm. “This isn’t your fight. You don’t understand what’s waiting out there. It’s dangerous, and it’s not your job to fix it.”
