Page 89 of Misfit Monsters
Jonah taps the new coordinates into his phone. “It moved half a mile in a couple of days. I wonder how often it drifts around?”
Hail grimaces. “Hopefully we’ll be done with this mission before we have to find out.”
“Well, let’s get started…”
Our leader takes another step toward the rift—and a small, blue-and-gray form careens out of the nearby trees with a piercing shriek.
The creature is only a little bigger than a blue jay, with moth-like wings rather than feathered and at least ten slim pointed legs. But it dive-bombs Jonah’s face with those needly legs extended and its wings battering the air.
What kind of demented butterfly is this?
Jonah grunts and smacks the thing to the side. Its legs draw scarlet scratches across his knuckles. A few sharp sorcerous syllables burst from his lips.
As the wacko butterfly whirls back toward Jonah, Mirage leaps in. He springs up to bonk the creature with one hand like he’d spike a volleyball.
Apparently the insane insect isn’t interested in playing ball. It whips away from him and shoots off between the trees.
The five of us stare after it. Would laughing or screaming be more appropriate?
“That was… interesting,” Hail says, sounding equally bemused.
Jonah wavers on his feet and then grabs the first aid kit from his pack. “If it’s gone, it can’t bother us. No way to track it when it’s flying anyway. What’s most important is getting a read on this rift.”
But where was that creature going in such a hurry? Jonah’s sorcery didn’t stop it from wanting to attack. Did it really get so scared of Mirage?
I didn’t pick up any emotions from it at all, now that I think about it.
Uneasiness crawls down my spine, but I can’t say what exactly I’m nervous about.
Jonah wraps a length of gauze around his scratchedknuckles and gestures to Raze, who hefts the bag off his shoulder and unzips it. They pull the metal boxes with their knobs and buttons out of their padded containers, as well as a couple of folded cages that we could open up if a less-flighty creature comes through the rift. Hail moves closer to watch.
I don’t understand how the devices Rollick sent with us are supposed to operate, but there’s something reassuring about the pings and ticks as Jonah holds the first one up to the rift. As if he’s bringing this strange phenomenon back into the realm of things that can be explained and catalogued. It won’t remain an unsettling mystery for long.
Since I have no experience with technology, there isn’t much for me to do. I wander through the woods near the rift, testing whether I can catch hints of emotion from the forest’s inhabitants. Are more odd shadowkind lurking close enough for me to sense their presence?
I taste Jonah’s satisfaction at fulfilling Rollick’s request and Raze’s at helping with the job. Mirage exudes delight while chasing sunbeams that dart with the swaying overhead leaves. Hail has his feelings tightly under wraps as usual.
A little fear reaches me from a few forest animals who don’t know what to make of our presence, but I don’t taste anything that matches the shifting emotions the strange shadowkind give off.
After a while, Jonah switches from one device to another. “Once we’ve gotten all the readings, I’ll see if I can affect the rift with my sorcery. Maybe you should give yours a try too, Raze—see if basilisk poison will shrink it. If you’re all right with making the attempt.”
Raze dips his head and murmurs an answer I don’t hear, because at the same moment a different sort of energy zings right through my skull.
My heart lurches.
The energy crackles around in my head. Like when Jonah gives us his sorcerous commands, the words jabbing into my will like tiny fish hooks… except this zing has a darker, sharper flavor to it.
Every inch of my skin chills as if it’s been coated with ice.
I know this feeling. Like tarnished medals behind glass. Like tandoori chicken wrapped in aluminium foil in a dim basement room.
As my pulse pounds frantically, I throw my awareness in the direction the energy came from with all my concentration. A few whiffs of emotion—mortal, human—reach me.
Frustration like meat charred to black.
Anger like bursting peppercorns.
Greed like vanilla mousse that’s spoiled.
