Chapter Summary: 39-year-old Jamie calls on Jack to babysit. Jack likes to think he's pretty decent at telling a scary story, but they don't really compare to the kinds of scares you can get from real life.
.
Ghost Stories
.
To Jack, there is nothing as satisfying as thumping a good snowball at the back of Jamie's head. Anytime works, but midsummer is best: Jamie has never gotten used to it, the sudden shock of cold and wet on a sunlit, balmy day, and the initial seconds of utter incredulity and bewilderment on his face never cease to make Jack laugh.
Jamie immediately retaliates by tackling him in a fierce bear hug, and Jack wobbles precariously as his friend towers overhead. At thirty-nine, Jamie is far taller than the frost spirit, and the tight embrace nearly squeezes the air out of Jack's lungs. "It's good to see you, Jack," Jamie exclaims, grinning as he pulls away to dust the snow from his hair, "but do you have to do that every time?"
"How else would you know I was here?" Jack asks, shrugging lazily.
"Jack!" A smaller force catches him around the legs, and Rowan smiles up at him, her short, cinnamon-brown hair strewn with green leaves as though she has been rolling around in them.
"Look at you!" Jack cries, hoisting her up and tossing her into the air so that he can catch her in his arms. "You've grown so much since last winter!"
"Well, that's because I'm six now," Ro explains patiently, patting Jack on the shoulder.
"That's about old enough for you and me to start getting into some real trouble, little lady!" Jack laughs, waggling his eyebrows.
From behind, Etta sneaks to his side as well, tugging at his hoodie with an easy grin minus one lower canine and one upper lateral incisor (and the voice in his head that notes missing teeth always does so in Tooth's voice). "And someone's getting rich quick," Jack adds, shifting Rowan so he can poke the side of Etta's cheek.
"Tooth gave me three dollars for them," she declares proudly. "Because I brush so well." She, like her sister, wears an airy sundress and closed-toe sandals in the summer heat. The afternoon sunlight filters through the green leaves overhead to beam down on them all, and Jack pulls down the neck of his hoodie in discomfort.
Jamie doesn't miss the movement. "Let's get inside, shall we? I'm glad you found us here, Jack," he adds as they begin trekking up a dirt path in the wooded hillside. "I wasn't sure you'd want to come all the way to Colorado in the middle of summer, even if we were doing it for vacation."
"Breckenridge isn't so bad this time of year," Jack explains cheerfully, adjusting Rowan to sit more easily in his arms as Etta hops across the stones nearby. "Very cool compared to Pennsylvania, and a zillion feet above sea level. I come here all the time to coat some of the mountains with snow, even in the middle of summer."
"Is it going to snow here?" Etta asks, alarmed. "I didn't bring my winter coat!"
"Not here, nutcase," Jack replies as Jamie leads them out of the tree line. "I'll only put it on that kind of mountain over there." The city of Breckenridge spills out before them in a small valley, and looming in the distance are several snow-dusted peaks.
"Oh," Etta says finally, shielding her eyes against the sun. "That's alright, then."
"Are you gonna stay with us while you work?" Rowan asks hopefully, her arms draped across Jack's shoulders. "Daddy got us a condor."
"A condo," Jamie corrects, smiling. He leads them carefully down the dirt path and toward the clustered buildings that sprawl below holding an arm out to support Etta down a steep pass. "And if you're going to be here a while, Jack, you should come stay."
"Thanks, but I've got a lot to do for the next few days," Jack replies regretfully. "I was just coming by to say hello for the afternoon, if you have time."
The girls look crushed, but before either of them can so much as open their mouth to begin whining, Jamie shoots them a look. "Alright, we get it. Let's hurry back, then—we'll have the place to ourselves for most of the day. Pippa has some friends who live nearby, so she's gone out with them for a few hours." Then, to the girls: "I'm sure the two of you can find plenty of trouble to get into with Jack in the meantime?"
Etta grins slyly up at her father. "Don't pretend you aren't going to play, too, Dad."
.
The temperature begins to drop as the sun approaches the horizon, but not enough to keep the day's residual warmth from weighing down on Jack. He sets Rowan back onto the ground so that she doesn't draw attention from nonbelievers by appearing to float in midair, but the lessened burden also helps keep him from tiring too quickly. Regardless, he suppresses a few yawns on the walk down—too much heat has always made him sleepy—and Jamie sagely insists that they keep indoors for the air-conditioning.
The condo turns out to be a quaint craftsman-style wooden building hooked alongside a slew of identical ones scattered across the hillside. The inside is done in earthy browns and reds and boasts a cozy little kitchen and a warm bedroom. Etta pushes Jack into the hallway to show off the narrow bunk bed, set into an alcove, that she shares with her sister.
The frost spirit has never been on a real summer vacation, Jamie claims, so the Bennetts eagerly prepare to show him one, even if they are not actually camping. And a part of summer vacations, Jack learns, means gathering on the carpet around the condo's small fireplace to tell ghost stories and make s'mores.
Jack has never had one of those either, and when Jamie hands him the warm, oozing mass of marshmallow and chocolate, he's not quite sure how to attack it.
"It's okay, Jack," Etta whispers, interpreting his hesitance as an unwillingness to eat Jamie's food. "Dad's gotten much better at this since I was little."
"Hey!" Jamie retorts indignantly, nudging her with his elbow as she bites into hers so that chocolate smears around the corners of her mouth. Jack takes advantage of the distraction to try his own.
It's surprisingly sweet and smoky, and he blinks at Jamie in surprise as he swallows. "Man in the Moon—this is really good, Jamie."
"C'mon, you too?" Jamie groans, laughing. "I can make a s'more, for God's sake."
"It's okay, Dad. I think you make good food," Ro replies, munching her own.
Jamie runs a hand through Ro's messy brown hair. "See? There's my good girl," he laughs. Etta wrinkles her nose and sticks her tongue out at her father.
"Jack, can you tell us a ghost story this time?" Ro pipes up suddenly. "Dad told us some yesterday, but I wanna hear some of yours."
"Ghost stories, huh?" Jack echoes thoughtfully, pulling a sticky string of marshmallow off of his fingers. "I don't know if I really believe in ghosts…" This much is true. He has not seen Anubis in the four years since they first met, but all that he knows about the spirit of death has suggested to him that death is a very final sort of thing.
"It doesn't matter if you believe in them or not," Etta claims imperiously. "You just say them."
"And it doesn't have to be about ghosts, Jack," Jamie adds. "It's just because you want a good scare."
"Yeah, Daddy told us a story about an old witch that followed people around and stuff. Or you could tell a monster story."
Jack rolls his shoulders, considering. "But the only kinds of monsters I know about are real monsters," he says slowly. He looks at Jamie, whose expression is suddenly more reluctant. Jack knows that Jamie's memories of Pitch are vague, if nothing else, but it's more than enough to leave his friend feeling unsettled.
His daughters, however, jump where they sit. "Real monsters?" Etta exclaims. Ro scoots forward excitedly. "You have to tell us one. C'mon, Jack!"
"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Jamie interjects. "With that kind of story, you two will be up all night, and we're going horseback riding early in the morning, remember? And—Ro, maybe you're a little too young for this."
Etta shakes her head. "Dad, she laughed at your story yesterday."
"Yeah, laughed," Rowan echoes. "And I'm six."
Jack hides a grin at the identical stubborn expressions on the Bennett girls' faces. Normally, he'd be all for creeping out a few kids in spite of what their parents might have wished, but it's slightly awkward when their father is frowning right in front of you. Especially when their father also happens to be your best friend.
After watching the silent glare war for another few seconds, Jack rolls his eyes. "Maybe I'll sit this one out and let you or Etta tell a story first," he tries finally, glancing back and forth. "Alright?"
"Let's do that instead," Jamie agrees. "Etta?"
"Okay, okay," Etta says, settling against the sofa to make herself comfortable. She spends a few minutes thinking while Ro wiggles impatiently, and then she begins. "Okay, so I know this one story. And it starts like, once upon a time there was a family who lived near a cornfield, because they grew corn together. And there was a dad and a mom and two little girls, and they picked the corn in the fall and everything. Well, out in the cornfield, there was a scarecrow they used to have that came with the house when they first bought it…"
Jack listens long enough for the scarecrow to begin following the family members around and skinning animals before he shoots Jamie a subtle, incredulous look.
Jamie smiles a little. "Yeah, I know," he whispers. "She's read a few too many Goosebumps."
As Etta's story unravels, she and Ro become a bit more independent: Ro, who is unblinkingly engaged in the tale, pipes up with a few questions ("How come the parents didn't believe her when he said the scarecrow ate the whole dog?"), which Etta answers patiently before continuing. They are enthralled enough, heads bent together like secret conspirators, that Jamie feels comfortable enough to distract Jack without provoking an angry rebuke from Etta.
"By the way," he says quietly, "I hoped you might show up if we came here. I could really use a favor."
"Uh-oh. Jamie, I know what I said, but when it comes down to it, I wouldn't really bury a body for you."
"Wha—? No," Jamie snorts. "Why does your mind even go there? And—wait a second, why not?"
"Because it would probably be one of those two," Jack replies with a lazy grin, jerking his head toward Etta and Rowan. "And I really don't condone that kind of thing."
"No idea how you guessed that." Jamie plays along. "This is why we'll be best friends forever: you already know too much." He and Jack share stupid grins before Jamie returns to his original idea. "But I guess it's a related thing. You can help me to not kill my kids if you help Pippa and I get away one night this week. She's been trying to drag me out to dinner with her friends, but we can't take the girls along. I don't know what your schedule looks like, but it would save us from scrambling to find a babysitter at the last minute and in a totally different town if you can do it sometime soon."
"Are you kidding? I'll make time in a couple days—Wednesday or something. It's been a while since I've seen them, and they're old enough to get into some serious trouble now," he says, waggling his eyebrows again.
"No, no funny stuff. No snow, no…you know," Jamie warns, shoving his friend's shoulder. "The last thing I need is to have to answer questions for why there's been a blizzard, but only around our condo."
"Ugh, stop acting so mature all the time." In response, Jamie pins him with narrowed eyes. "Fine, fine—and you know I wouldn't do any of that anyway. Besides, it's the middle of summer. We'll have to stay in the condo the whole time, for the AC. Remember?" He scrapes out his most innocent look for his friend.
Jamie frowns, because he's known Jack long enough to tell when he's not being entirely truthful. Before he can jump on Jack's case, though, Etta interrupts. "I said, that's the end. What did you think, Jack? It was really good, right? Dad?"
"Of course—really good," Jamie replies automatically.
"We'll take turns telling a few more like that Wednesday night," Jack adds slyly. "Your Dad says I get to stay here with you." Etta and Ro chatter excitedly at the announcement, Ro jumping onto him in her excitement and poking into him with her skinny limbs.
Jamie groans and rubs his forehead, but he can't hide the wry amusement on his face. "I'm already starting to think this is a bad idea. I'm gonna regret this, aren't I?"
.
Jack works more quickly than he knew was possible over the next few days. He powders the mountaintops of White River and Pike National Forests all at once, cutting across to Roosevelt as well before his appointed time with the Bennetts on Wednesday night.
The sky is a dull grey and the temperature cool when Jack drifts back to Breckenridge that evening. He is almost as excited as the girls are: Pippa, who (ironically) prides herself on not worrying as much as her husband, has always insisted on meeting any babysitter in person, which means that Jack has never had the chance to do this before. Fortunately, Jamie has somehow managed it by dropping the girls off to Jack while she waits for him at her friends' place.
"Okay, girls," he says, pecking them both on the tops of their heads as they wait impatiently for him to leave the condo. "Take care of your Uncle Jack for me. Don't let him get in too much trouble. I'm counting on you." He wears black pants and a coat over his blue button-down shirt, and although he rolls his eyes at Jack's grin, the frost spirit doesn't get the chance to tease him over his fancy clothes.
"It's okay, Dad," Rowan replies solemnly. "We'll be really good."
"I know," Jamie replies, but he still looks suspiciously at Jack.
The Guardian groans. "Goodbye, Jamie."
"Alright, alright. Don't wait up, Jack—we'll be back really late. Or early in the morning, depending. And no trouble!" Jamie adds, pointing back at the frost spirit as he vanishes from sight.
Jack shuts the door behind him. "What does he think I'm going to do, take you on a field trip to Thailand or something?"
"Would you?" Etta asks innocently.
"No," Jack replies firmly. "Because you would never want to come back."
"A snowball fight, then?"
"Your dad would kill me."
"Then what?" Etta asks exasperatedly. "We have to do something cool—because what if you never get to come babysit us again?"
They stare at him, Etta's eyes dark and unyielding, Rowan's a somber hazel. Jack laughs. "When did you two get so bossy?" But he, too, has been considering this. The window by the door looks over the cluster of condos and, farther off, the glow of a city lighting itself up for the night. With the thick cloud cover, it is certainly dark enough for a few strange flying objects to remain unseen by passers-by.
"I was thinking," he begins, looking back at their curious faces, "how would you like to go for a night flight?"
.
When Jack imagined how he would manage to keep two flying girls from being seen, he underestimated how excited Etta and Ro would be during the outing. They shriek and giggle as his wind carries them skimming across a small lake and through the leaves of the pine trees, and despite the fact that Jack imagines there will be few people to spot them in the middle of a national forest so late at night, he calls his wind to pull them all higher and out of earshot.
It's a tricky thing to do, carrying these two extra burdens. Jack adjusts the wind to shield and cushion them as they weave in and out of clouds. Etta shows off by doing a backstroke through the mist, her animated expression reminding Jack of a younger version of Jamie.
"Look at the stars—there are so many!" Ro shouts, spinning to look at the inky sky above. She reaches out with one hand as though she can grab them from where she is.
"This is amazing!" shouts Etta in reply. "Take us—oh, take us there!"
She points at a peak in the distance, the white snow bright in the darkness. Jack grins. "On our way!"
The night air is crisp and soothing against their skin, and it bears the faint, smoky scent of pine trees and campfires. Still, it is not cool enough for Jack, not by far, and they are only in the air for an hour before the warm temperatures begin to weigh on him. Lethargy makes the sofa back at the condo seem more welcoming than ever.
He gradually leads them back to the city, hovering lower and lower as they near it, but there are no shouts of surprise or screams about UFOs or terrorists, so they glide back to the condo. Their feet hit the cement pathway, Ro still giggling from the feeling in her stomach as they dropped, and Jack drags them both inside.
"I can't believe you get to do this all the time, Jack," Etta exclaims breathlessly as she closes the door behind them, smiling. "I don't think I would ever come down if I were you."
"It's hard sometimes," Jack agrees, echoing her grin as he collapses onto the sofa, stretching his arms above his head. The downy pillows almost swallow him. The air conditioning inside rapidly cools him down, but even so, he thinks he could fall asleep in half a second if given the chance.
"What are we gonna do now?" Rowan asks, settling at Jack's feet. It is far past her bedtime, and like the frost spirit, her eyelids droop in fatigue as she settles against the sofa. The wind has ruffled her short hair, making it stick out in every direction even as she tries to pat it down.
Etta pounces when Jack begins to relax. "Jack, don't go to sleep!"
"I wasn't!" Jack protests, rolling his eyes as if he isn't about to nod off.
"You have to tell us a story! A ghost story." Etta begs, dancing eagerly around the room. She seems not to suffer from the exhaustion that overwhelms Jack and Rowan. "No, a monster story, like you said earlier."
"Mmm, I dunno if your dad'll go for that," Jack replies. Etta opens her mouth petulantly to argue, and Jack realizes that he is far too tired for that, so he quickly waves a hand at her before she can start. "But—stop—whatever." He pauses, yawning as he casts about for a good story to tell, and then it comes to him. "Okay, okay, monster story: once upon a time, about two and a half months ago, a spirit of dreams named Sandy and a frost spirit named Jack were racing across the Canadian Rockies, and Sandy was technically winning because he has that airplane he makes with his dust—"
"Wait, is this a real monster story?" Etta interrupts skeptically. "You're in it."
"Who's telling the story, me or you?" He pokes Etta's nose. "Do you wanna hear it?"
Etta sighs, but she obediently folds her legs beneath her to listen. "Yes, tell the story."
"Okay. So. Sandy was pulling ahead just a little in his amazing single-engine bi-plane, enough to turn back and look at me and gloat, you know—there's not a lot that can move faster than my wind, but Sandy comes pretty close—and I wasn't going to take that, because I know the skies in that area better than almost anyone. So I kept really close to the ridges and took a thermal right up toward the edge of the tropopause before Sandy got caught up in a polar jet stream that took him to the east and way off course—"
"Are there actually monsters in this story?" Rowan interrupts sleepily. She has draped herself across the sofa next to Jack, her head resting on his chest as she stares.
"Oh. Yeah, monsters," Jack says around a yawn. "Okay, well, as much fun as we were having, the reason we were racing all the way up the Rockies was because we were hearing rumors of this skeleton thing that was trying to lure little kids away from their homes. But Sandy's been around a while. He's fought all kinds of things before, and he knew right away that it was this monster called a wendigo. They're kind of tall and gross-looking, skinny as all get-out, with long, spidery arms and legs and bones sticking out all over. No one really knows where they come from, but Native Americans used to think they were people who'd eaten other people."
Etta, giggling, uses Jack's pause to make the appropriate gagging sounds.
"Exactly. And they smell even worse than they look. Unfortunately, on a scale of one to dead, you're pretty much a goner if you meet one in the middle of the woods at night. Except that, like I said, Sandy's been around a while, and even though he's definitely tough enough to take one on his own, he let me come along to learn a thing or two."
"So these things are really real?"
Jack, uncertain how Etta will take his answer, hesitates. Rowan, at least, is half-asleep on his chest, and if her closed eyes are any indication, she probably hasn't paid attention to a single word he's said in the last minute. The frost spirit rubs his eyes blearily and goes for it: "Yeah, wendigos are real. But they're nothing you need to worry about. For one thing, they tend to like much colder climates than this—snow and tundra and that sort of thing. And even if they didn't, who's looking out for you?"
The answer to this question has been fully engrained into the Bennett girls since they were old enough to talk. Etta smiles. "You."
"Me, that's who. So, anyway, we finally ended up veering all the way to the Kluane National Park, in this sort of secluded mountain peak near Mount Logan, where the snow is especially thick, even this time of year. Sandy knew how to find the wendigo just like if he were a tracker or someone had set out huge flashing arrows or something, and we found the wendigo's den pretty quick. It was in this cold, icy cave where the walls are so slippery that if you can't fly, you slide down the sides without even meaning to. The missing kids were all there, locked up in cages at the bottom, and almost blue because they were so cold, but all alive.
"Sandy and I had started getting them free when the wendigo burst in—and it was definitely beaten with the ugly stick, because it was this explosion of gross, with these pointy yellow teeth—but Sandy just started lashing at it with his dreamsand. And then, all of a sudden, we realized it wasn't one wendigo but a bunch of them, 'cause they started crawling out of tunnels in the walls, and Sandy and I fought them off and chased them into a side chamber where there was okay I'm just now realizing how inappropriate this story is and can I take it all back?"
Etta looks at him imperiously.
"Okay, so no. Well, there was a lot of sick, bloody stuff in there that we're going to skim over because your dad would kill me if I told you—"
"He'd kill you if he found out what you already told me—"
"—so let's not make it worse, and Sandy and I tussled around with them for a while before we managed to take them out."
"How'd you do it?"
"What do you mean, how'd I do it?" Jack asks, muffling another yawn.
"I mean, how'd you, you know…" She sweeps a finger across her throat.
"Etta, you're barely up to my chest. I'm not telling you that part until you're at least as tall as my shoulders. Or better yet, taller than me. And then we helped the kids out of their cages and got them back to where they lived before, and the day was saved and everyone lived happily ever after. The end."
She sighs in frustration. "That was a really bad story, Jack."
"What are you talking about? It had a monster in it!"
"Yeah, but you wouldn't even tell me the good parts, and it wasn't scary because I knew you were going to win."
"So it would have been better if I'd lost?"
"Don't worry, Jack," she says, rolling her eyes as she pats his shoulder in a patronizing fashion, "I'll tell you a real ghost story, and then you can learn how to do it." She settles across the sofa next to him, thinking. "Okay, this one's really good. Probably my best, but it's slow to start. So, once upon a time there was a girl who moved with her family into this huge old house. It was always very dark inside, no matter how many lights were turned on, and there were always strange creaking noises whenever the house moved, even though her parents told her it was the wind. They lived kind of out in the middle of the country, and they were a few miles away from any other houses, and there was a forest all around them that the little girl played in. Well, when they had been there for a month, the little girl woke up in the middle of the night one time. It was really dark and she couldn't see anything at all. She didn't know why at first, but she realized her dog had gotten out of her bed and was staring down the hallway, growling…"
Jack tries very diligently to remain awake, but it is much more difficult now that he is not the one telling the story. In spite of Etta's animated gestures, his eyelids droop. Rowan is drooling on his chest. What seems like hours later, he hears Etta's amused voice as though it is an ocean away: "Who's supposed to be babysitting, Jack?" and feels the light weight of a thin blanket spread across him and Rowan.
.
In the dark of the night, Jack finds them both gone.
He wakes gradually, dimly wondering what has pulled him from his sleep, when he realizes that the weight on his chest has vanished. Hazily, he feels around for Rowan and opens his eyes when he can't find her.
Jack is alone in the den of the condo. It is dark. The sofa where Etta sat earlier is now empty. The blanket she'd placed over Jack and Rowan has been strewn aside, draped over the couch and across the floor as if Ro threw it off to get up at some point.
"Etta? Ro?" he calls, sitting up to look around blearily.
It's quiet, with only the sounds of crickets and the slightest gust of wind. He stands to search for them—the condo is small, and they can't have gone far—when he realizes that the front door is standing wide open. In his sleepy daze, it takes a moment for his brain to fully process this, and then he wakes up all at once, worry stabbing at him like a cold dagger.
The girls know better than to leave without telling him, he thinks, and he's not sure what it means that they are gone.
Swearing vehemently, he swipes his staff and rushes off into the night air. "Etta? Ro?" he calls again, sweeping his eyes across the dimly lit street and the rows of condos across from him. He billows his wind beneath him to shoot straight up in the air, darting about frantically to peer at the ground below. It takes him a minute or two to spot a dark shape not far from the woods where he met Jamie and the girls earlier in the week.
Jack speeds over to it, recognizing the gleam of long blonde hair. He lands hard on his feet behind Etta, who is staring into the black shadows of the trees without moving.
"Etta? Etta, what's going on? Where's Ro?"
She flinches and turns to face him, her eyes red from crying. "She—she went into the woods, with—" she pauses, shaking her head violently. "I don't know! I was trying to follow them, but I got scared, and I didn't know if I should go get you or go after her, and—I don't really want to meet a monster, Jack!"
"A monster?"
"I don't know—maybe! I just woke up, and there was a dark shadow—I thought it was a man, but he was really tall and skinny, like—" she shakes her head again. "Like maybe he was a wendigo, but Ro just took his hand and they left. I was almost too scared to move, and then I went after them, and then I thought I should go and get you, and then I didn't know what to do."
Wendigos do not usually live in this area during this time of the year, Jack knows, but that doesn't mean that there aren't one or two lurking about, hungry during the long summer. Fright and a sick sort of worry tear at him, but it is mostly anger that he feels.
Jack has been told that he has a very cold sort of anger when wronged, the kind that builds and seethes unseen and doesn't let go. He's never known what to make of this, and he's had few chances to test the theory. Right now, though, he couldn't agree more. There is a terrible and soothing certainty in his mind that anything that has hurt Rowan Bennett in any way will pay dearly for the mistake.
"It's okay," he says slowly to Etta, still looking toward the dark forest where his objective lies. He has to be fast if he means to catch the wendigo before it reaches its den; he is no Sandy and cannot track them for long. "It's okay. Let's get you back, and I'll—"
"No!" Etta bursts out. "You can't take me back there! What if something happens? What if it comes back? I don't want to be there all alone."
She grabs the end of his hoodie, as though she will fight to stay by his side, and Jack realizes this is probably the safest place for her. "Alright," he replies calmly, not looking away from the trees. "We'll go together."
Something in his calm, toneless voice seems to disconcert Etta, who takes his hand slowly, as though she is convincing herself to take the hand of a total stranger.
.
Their second flight of the night is not nearly as exuberant as the first. Etta stares miserably down at the ground, and Jack, who is intently focused on peering through the trees below, has no time to spare on words of reassurance for her.
They have been flying for some time, nearly fifteen minutes by Jack's estimate, when the frost spirit starts to wonder if maybe it would be quicker to find Sandy instead. Jack is hardly an expert tracker, and he has no idea what to look for, but the time spent looking for Sandy might be time that Rowan doesn't have.
His anger is thickening when he and Etta crash into something solid. Etta shrieks, and in his surprise, he just manages to catch her with his wind before she falls further toward the treetops. Jack has been flying distractedly, but not that distractedly, and there is nothing in the air before them to crash into.
"What was that?" Etta asks fearfully, rubbing her head.
"I don't know," Jack replies slowly, stretching his arms out to where they smashed into whatever it is. There is something solid there, something he can't see. He moves his hands to either side. It's flat and smooth, almost like an invisible wall. Jack frowns, because as messed up as wendigos are, he doesn't know of any that wield magic like this.
Something rustles in the trees beneath them, and though Etta doesn't make a sound, her hand flies out to grab Jack's in fright. The frost spirit squeezes it, meeting her eyes to put a finger across his lips as he allows them to drift slowly toward the ground. They sink noiselessly through the tree branches and settle onto the grass, peering through the bushes around them.
Another rustle comes from behind them, something close at first but getting farther away, and after a moment's hesitation, Jack leads Etta toward it. The noise grows faint, but never too faint to make out, and the pair of them trails quickly and quietly behind whatever is making it. In the crushing darkness of the forest and the canopy that blocks out every trace of starlight, it seems to Jack as though they walk for ages. Etta occasionally stumbles at his side, but she rights herself dutifully and clutches his hand even harder.
The noise stops abruptly in the distance, and Jack sees the hole in the earth a moment before they would have stepped into it. It is a natural cave, a small sort of crevasse through the rock, and Etta, likely remembering his earlier story, whimpers and steps closer to him.
"It's all right," he says quietly, placing an arm under her knees and back to scoop her up. "We're just going to check. If anything happens, I'll use my wind to fly you back up again, and you get out of here, okay?"
She doesn't seem to want to speak, but she nods determinedly and clings to his neck. Jack jumps down, letting his wind guide him, and they drop twenty feet or so before they hit the ground. His nerves thrum with tension as he adjusts Etta in his arms.
If it was dark before, it is impossibly black now. The scant light trickling in through the opening above them is barely enough to glimmer off of the surfaces of the walls, but Jack thinks there is a dim light and a slight noise off to one side, and he heads in that direction. The noise is strange, not the rustles from earlier, but something that dips and peaks. As they approach, he realizes that it's the sound of humming, the tune bouncing off of the shimmering rock walls.
A similar memory rouses a faint suspicion in his mind, and it is confirmed a moment later when they spill out into a large, well-lit chamber in the earth. Water trickles from an underground stream to feed a lawn of small plants and flowers; chandeliers of candles drip wax from the ceiling above; glowing vines creep up the rock walls; cluttered piles of antique furniture and dishes and paintings and clothing tower like garbage heaps farther off. In the midst of it all is Rowan, sitting at a wooden table and giggling as a stranger pours them tea.
Jack growls in fury, setting Etta down. "Are you serious? You did that on purpose, didn't you? I thought you were a freaking wendigo!"
The puca looks up, amused. It is a few inches taller than Jack and covered entirely in short black fur, with long ears and a pair of curved horns. "Puca is wanting to have playmate," it explains, golden eyes glowing as it peers at the frost spirit, "and small friends of Jack are being much perfect."
Usually, Jack has a soft spot for pucas. As a collective, they are about as bright as Alaska in December, but they have always clung to Jack as a sort of kindred spirit. Pucas are good-natured but mischievous troublemakers, always good for a game and a laugh, and their wiry bodies are quicker than they look, making them excellent racers. It also helps that their scratchy voices and odd, spindly limbs creep the heck out of Bunny, which is more than good enough for Jack. Today, though, he isn't in the mood for this puca's charades. "Didn't we tell you no more collecting?" Jack continues irritably, stepping across the lawn to reach the table as though he hasn't heard. "And why are you even here? Your home is in Ireland."
The puca shrugs, taking a long, slow sip of tea. "Puca is thinking it is time for new home. Away from family. Other pucas? Not clever," it scoffs. "Puca is wanting to see new places. Grand Canyon. Many beautiful."
"You just moved all this crap on a whim?" Jack demands incredulously.
"All this? Not crap," the puca corrects, the fur on its shoulders bristling in offense. "Treasures. Collections."
"Yeah, well, you can't collect people. As Bunny and I told you last time we met."
"Puca is not being allowed to collect people in Europe. But America? Land of freedom. Yes?"
"No, no collecting in America either," Jack says heatedly, making a wild gesture with his arms. "I didn't think that needed to be said!"
"Jack is being a lot more pleasant last time he is playing," the puca says, tilting its head curiously until it is almost sideways, like an owl's.
"Yeah, well, last time we met, you didn't steal one of my best friend's kids!" The mention of Rowan makes Jack remember that the Bennett girls are there. He turns his head to find Etta half-hiding behind his back, looking far less frightened now that it is apparent that Jack has a handle on the situation and the bizarre creature doesn't seem inclined to skin and eat her alive. Rowan is stirring her tea nonchalantly, as though she is abducted by strange beings every day.
"You know him, Jack?" Etta asks quietly, still staring at the puca warily.
"I guess you could say that," he says, sighing and trying to calm himself down. "This is a puca. They live mostly in Ireland and Scotland, they like playing tricks on people, they collect crap and call it treasure, and they sometimes kidnap people for company, probably including Lewis Carroll at one point. A couple of years ago, Bunny and I caught them stealing kids away that they thought were friendly and trading them for 'collections.' So we told them to stop, and yet here we are."
The puca shrinks back a little under Jack's livid gaze. "Puca is wanting to play with Jack again," it explains, "so it takes Jack's friend. Jack is being led here by the puca. Glass wall, yes? Is very funny. Puca is laughing. Now we all play together."
"Not now," Jack says firmly, wanting to tear his hair out. Or its hair out, whichever comes first. "Jamie will kill me if he gets home and we're not there. We have to go back right away. Rowan, let's go."
"But—but the puca and I—we're friends now," Rowan objects, looking despondently at the puca, who has wilted in the seat across from her. "And he was going to grant me a wish. Daddy won't get me a glow-in-the-dark bike—"
"Pucas can't actually grant wishes!" Jack cries in frustration. "They always say that so you'll go with them. Rowan, what were you thinking? Are you insane? What if he was something worse than a puca, something that could really hurt you? Hasn't your dad ever taught you about strangers and candy?"
"He didn't offer me candy," Rowan begins seriously, but she seems cowed by Jack's fierce look and obediently hops off her chair. "Sorry. Bye, Mister Puca."
The frost spirit grabs each of the girls' hands and pulls them toward the crevasse. The temperature in the underground chamber has dropped several degrees in the last few moments, and the Bennetts both shiver, staring at Jack as if they have never seen him before. Rowan almost forgets to wave goodbye to her new friend.
"Jack is visiting again someday? With children of best friend? Yes?" The puca calls before they can leave the way they came.
"Maybe, if Jamie doesn't kill me first!" Jack yells back over his shoulder.
.
It is too late for them to return to the condo unnoticed. By the stars, Jack knows that it is nearly four in the morning, far past time for Jamie to be home, and the Bennetts' car is stationed in their assigned parking spot when Jack and the girls glide down to the sidewalk below.
Jack sways exhaustedly on his feet as they land, but he shakes himself and hesitates at the closed door of the condo. The lights are blazing inside. Rowan shifts uneasily beside him. The frost spirit has not spoken to her since they left, but she knows enough to tell that Jack has not yet forgiven her, and that she will likely be worse off with her father.
"What are we going to tell them?" asks Etta, who seems to have realized that the situation will call for a good deal of finesse.
The frost spirit frowns. "Maybe let's talk to your dad alone first. You two wait over there; I'll get him out."
Etta leads her little sister out of sight around the side of a nearby building—Jack is hardly about to let them go far after what has happened tonight—and the frost spirit approaches the window to the condo. Pippa and Jamie are arguing frantically, and Jack guides his wind expertly past the window so that the glass rattles in its panes. The adults inside look up, but where Pippa's gaze drifts past Jack and she quickly loses interest, Jamie freezes, startled. Jack motions for him to come outside.
The frost spirit waits a moment, and the door swings open. "I'm just going to go look for them, Pippa—I'm sure they're nearby. Just hold on a sec, okay? And don't call the cops yet."
Pippa's exasperated voice reaches Jack's ears. "Jamie, are you sure—?"
"Yes. Just give me ten minutes." Without waiting for an answer, he pulls the door closed. Jack puts a finger to his lips and jerks his head to the side, and Jamie follows him down the sidewalk. Jack can feel the weight of his glare on the back of his head.
"Dad!" Etta cries when they round the corner, throwing her arms around her father. Rowan isn't far behind.
"What the hell happened?" Jamie hisses furiously at Jack, holding his children close. "I ask you to stay in the condo, and what, did you take them out ice skating or something? Jesus, Jack, what do the words no trouble mean to you? What the hell am I supposed to tell Pippa about this?"
"We didn't mean to leave the condo, Jamie," Jack retorts, then falters. "I mean—"
"Not the second time," Etta supplies, before he can work out what to say.
"The second time?" Jamie parrots.
"We went flying the first time," Ro says.
"Are you kidding me?" Jamie asks, his eyebrows rising. "That's your idea of babysitting?"
Jack is rubbing his forehead embarrassedly. "Look, it was a quick thing—we just went out and then came back in to sleep. You know how tired I get in the summer; I wasn't going to stay out for long—"
"Yeah, Jack and Ro were both really tired," Etta adds helpfully, "so we came inside to tell ghost stories and sleep, and that's all."
"And then I woke up in the middle of the night, and they were both gone—"
"Gone? What do you mean, gone?"
Etta jumps in again. "There was a stranger who came in the house, and he was talking to Ro, and it woke me up. I saw her leave with them, so I chased after—"
"Wait, wait, wait," Jamie says, waving his arms frantically for her to stop. "A stranger?"
"Yeah, a stranger. He was all tall and thin, and I thought it was a wendigo after Jack's stories, because they're things that are like skeletons and eat people—"
Jamie shoots Jack an angry glare. "Do they really need stories about things like that, Jack? Why would you tell them something that could put them in danger?"
"What are you talking about?" Jack asks in disbelief.
"Believing in these…monsters! You're setting them up to believe in evil spirits, and attracting attention to them so that things can come after them—"
"Hey, whoa! It's not going to hurt them to hear the stories, Jamie. Evil spirits can get them whether or not they believe. You believed in worse things than wendigos when you were younger, and you turned out just fine."
Jamie cuts in fiercely. "That's different, and you know it—"
"How is it different?" Jack cries incredulously. "I was around to protect you then, and I'm around to protect them now! If a wendigo had come, whether or not she'd heard the story, it would have gotten her, and if a wendigo had come, I would have been there to get her out of—"
"You can't possibly know that for sure," Jamie objects, yelling now.
"That's my job! I'm a Guardian, and you've always trusted me to do it before—"
"Well, excuse me, but I can't always tell when you're going to act like a Guardian and when you're going to act like a child."
The frost spirit is hurt, but he presses on so it won't show. "Are you serious? I would never do anything to put either of them in danger! If anything, this whole thing happened because someone obviously hasn't taught his daughters how to take care of themselves—"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jamie roars.
"—and they don't even get the concept of 'stranger danger'—and might I add, it wasn't a wendigo at all, it was just a freaking puca that thought Rowan was cute enough to adopt, so it promised to grant her a wish and she came with it, not because of any scary story but probably because she believes in your freaking fairy tales."
They breathe heavily in the ringing silence, each glaring fiercely at the other. Etta and Rowan stare back and forth between them, wide-eyed.
"Don't—don't fight," Rowan says quickly, looking as though she might cry. "I'm sorry for leaving with the puca—"
"Jamie?" Pippa's voice comes from around the corner, and she sprints around the side of the building before catching sight of the girls. "Oh, my God. Where have you been?" She wraps both of her daughters in a tight hug before looking up at Jamie. "Where's the sitter? I thought—I thought I heard voices."
Jamie tears his eyes from Jack. "I…let the sitter go. Uh, he and the girls were just playing in the park down the street."
"At four in the morning?" Pippa hisses, running her hand through Rowan's short hair. "Jamie, where did you find this guy? Out of some nuthouse?"
Ro and Etta wince and look at Jack miserably.
"Something like that. Don't worry, though. I'll talk to him later," Jamie adds, determinedly not looking at Jack. He and Pippa drag their daughters back toward the condo, Pippa fretting over the dirty state of their clothes as the girls try to wave goodbye.
Jack stands alone under the streetlight for another few minutes, still faintly disbelieving, before he comes to his senses and takes off.
.
Afterwards, Jack sleeps. Exerting himself in such warm weather has worn him down, and rather than agonizing over the argument, he takes the easy route and curls up in the snow of the nearby Tenmile Range for a day or so until he is back up to strength.
His rest is disturbed by intrusive thoughts (What did Jamie mean, I'm acting like a child? and I hope he at least makes sure Ro knows better than to do that again. and Okay, maybe he said 'no trouble,' but he knows I'm the Guardian of Fun, so what did he expect? and a firm I am not going to apologize for this), so he gets very little sleep.
He and Jamie have fought before, but never like this. Never as if they really meant it. Never so fiercely that Jack wonders whether something has broken that is irreparable.
And if he's honest with himself, he messed up in the purest sense: it was his responsibility to take care of the girls, and he failed. In Jamie's eyes, this might be a mistake that cannot be forgiven.
In the end, he finds he has no real reason to return to Breckenridge and every reason to leave. He has put down all the snow that needs putting, and the wind is now calling him northeast toward Greenland. Maybe it will be good to give Jamie some space until Northern Winter, at least.
Jack has nearly committed himself to following his wind's urging to move on when he hears the crunch of footsteps in the nearby snow. Frowning, he pokes his head out of the snowdrift to see who it could be. And then he hears the humming.
"Jack is being very quiet," says a familiar, scratchy voice. The black puca is dark against the white ground.
The frost spirit groans and settles back into the snow. "Ugh, you," he grinds out. The puca is not deterred, and it wriggles through the snow to reach him.
"Jack is ready to be playing now? A race, yes?" It pokes him in the shoulder with one long, thin finger and then hops twice, gearing itself up to run.
"No, I'm not ready to play. I just want to sit here a while. Alone."
As expected, the puca doesn't get the hint. "Jack is always ready to be playing," it says oddly, staring as though it can't understand where Jack is broken and how to fix him.
"I just don't feel like it, okay?" Jack says, folding his arms across his chest. The puca tilts its head and pokes him again. "Will you get lost?" he shouts angrily, sitting up. "Look, if you hadn't taken Rowan, none of this would have happened in the first place! Now, my best friend thinks I'm about as reliable as a weatherman in March, and we're fighting, and—he might not ever speak to me again!"
The puca has shrunk back, crouching into what might have been a furry black ball if there weren't so many skinny limbs sticking out. Jack sighs in irritation, wiping a hand down his face. It's not really the puca's fault that any of this happened; Jack has never exactly valued them for their intelligence, and this one didn't mean any harm by kidnapping Rowan.
"Sorry," he says shortly, pausing to figure out how to make the creature understand. "It's just that…it's like you stole from someone else's collection, and they're very angry with me. Because I was supposed to be guarding it. The thing you took, I mean. But it's not really your fault. I guess I should have paid better attention or something. Okay?"
The puca unfurls itself very slowly but remains in a crouch, frowning. It seems distracted. "Like wolf."
"What?"
"Friend is being like wolf. Puca is noticing wolf cubs. Much playful. Many loud howl. But pucas are not collecting wolf cubs. Is Jack knowing why?"
Flouncing back onto the snow, Jack shakes his head in exasperation. "I don't know. Probably because their teeth could kill you."
"Yes. Yes, that. Very yes. But also because parent wolfs is having teeth to kill pucas as well. Much sharp teeth. Many long. Yes?"
Jack closes his eyes. "Yes."
"But one day, puca finds wolf cub lost in the forest. Many fun! Puca is playing game with wolf cub, is racing. But then puca is returning wolf cub to mother wolf, and mother wolf is trying to kill puca with much sharp teeth. The puca is trying to help, and mother wolf is trying to kill puca with much sharp teeth."
The frost spirit sighs again. "That's a great story. I don't know why you told it, but it's great."
"Friend of Jack is being like wolf mother," the puca explains patiently, either not catching the sarcasm or ignoring it altogether. "Puca is trying to return wolf cub to mother, and mother is protecting wolf cub and is not seeing who helps and who hurts. Jack is returning child to friend of Jack, and friend of Jack is protecting wolf cub. No, protecting child. Yes?"
Jack blinks. Hold on, is that a moral? "Yes."
"Jack is seeing?" the puca asks excitedly. "Wolf cub is being children, and wolf mother is being friend of Jack, and—"
"Yes, yes, okay, let me think a second."
In what Jack considers to be a small miracle, the puca remains silent, sitting back on its haunches as it waits. Maybe—and Jack never thought he'd be thinking this—but maybe the puca is actually right. Maybe Jamie, in his fright over arriving home to find his daughters missing, lashed out at the person he assumed would care for him. It wasn't exactly Jack's fault that Ro had vanished, but if he hadn't been so wiped out from their initial (unapproved) joyride, he probably would have woken before Ro could let herself be whisked away to wonderland with some creepy, lunatic spirit. Although in Jack's defense, what normal kid would trust a tall, hairy stranger to grant them a wish?
He frowns. The Bennett girls, of course. The only spirits Etta and Ro have ever met are the good guys. It's not exactly like Jack goes about introducing them to wendigos, pretas, werewolves, and liches on his visits. Come to think of it, it's probably about time that Jack shared a story about the dangers of wendigos with the Bennett girls; otherwise, they might go their entire lives trusting any spirit that comes bearing gifts of candy. If Jack's really going to be protecting children like the Bennetts, maybe it's best for him to get serious every now and then and give out a lesson in caution.
Jack's at least a little bit at fault here, if he's honest with himself. Maybe thirty percent. Alright, fifty. So half an apology is warranted, right?
And an apology will be enough to get them talking again, at least for a second. Maybe long enough for Jamie to reconsider. Either way, it will ensure that Jack knows for certain how his friend really feels about him now.
The frost spirit looks over at the puca, which is still watching him curiously. "Thanks. I guess that helped."
The puca springs up and does a victorious little bounce, its white teeth gleaming in a smile. "Pucas will always be helping Jack! We are being Jack's friends, yes?"
At this, Jack cracks a wry smile. "Yes."
"And Jack is many friendly when he is being happy. Jack is being fun. Better. We race now, yes?"
The frost spirit glides to his feet, ready to find his friend. "That way," he says by way of an answer, pointing in the direction of Breckenridge, which rests out of sight on the other side of the mountain range. "To the outskirts of the city, okay?"
"Yes!" The puca crows happily, hopping next to Jack so they can start at even places.
Jack looks at it suspiciously, because it is oddly exuberant. Even for a puca. "But no tricks this time," he warns. "No walls or anything, right?"
The puca grins at him slyly, its golden eyes gleaming. "Puca is making no promises."
.
It is not a fair race by anyone's standards, mostly because both of them are tricksters, and when the puca puts up an invisible wall, Jack retaliates by sweeping it off its feet with his wind. After that, it all spirals downhill until the puca's legs are half-frozen and Jack is pushed to the ground by a strange weight on his shoulders. The puca wins by a hair, despite the self-animated snowballs pelting themselves at its fur, and Jack takes its chattering laughter in stride as it disappears into the forest with a cheery wave.
Jack isn't sure exactly what he's going to do when he reaches Jamie's condo, or if the Bennetts will even still be there, or if he should be doing this at all. He forces his wind to take him there all the same, though it urges him move on and continue his duties.
He crouches to peek into the window while he gathers his thoughts, and his eyes instantly fall on Jamie. His friend is the picture of misery where he sits at the kitchen table, head in his hands, but he shoots to his feet as soon as he catches sight of the frost spirit. Jamie makes some excuse to Pippa—the girls, who are coloring in the corner, watch him suspiciously—and heads for the door.
The frost spirit steps back, as the scene reminds him of last time Jamie left the condo alone. Jamie appears at the doorway, stares at him wordlessly, and leads him around the back of the condo and out of sight of the parking lot, as their conversation could attract attention during the daylight hours.
"I'm glad you came back," Jamie begins, frowning at the ground. "I thought you might not."
"I almost didn't," Jack admits. "But—I wanted to tell you I'm sorry."
His friend sighs, shaking his head slowly. "It wasn't really your fault."
"I know," Jack says sheepishly, "but part of it was, and I thought I should apologize anyway so we could talk again. Look, you were right about—I shouldn't have taken them out flying. It was a stupid idea, and I should have kept a closer watch on them."
Jamie waves him off. "I knew you were going to do something a little crazy, Jack—I mean, you're you, you're the Guardian of Fun—but I just thought that I'd never find out about it and I could pretend it never happened. I guess I just panicked when we got back and the girls were gone, and I took it all out on you."
Jack shrugs. "If something had happened to any of you guys, I would have reacted the same way."
Jamie closes his eyes. "I know. I know you would have. And I'm sorry for…I shouldn't have said…"
"Don't worry about it," Jack manages.
"No, Jack, seriously. I made it sound like I couldn't trust you with the girls when it's the furthest thing from the truth. You do act like a kid sometimes, but it's in the best way possible, and it's something I'd never change about you. And you act like a Guardian the second you need to There's no one else I'd choose to protect my kids, and I'm sorry I ever acted like things were different.
"Etta sort of brought me to my senses," he adds sheepishly. "She wouldn't let up about how I shouldn't have yelled at you, and how worried you'd been about Ro, and how you couldn't have done anything to stop her from going because you were all asleep when it happened. And just…I'm really, really sorry."
Jack allows a small smile. "Thanks, Jamie," he says. Then, hesitantly: "Are we okay?"
Jamie returns the smile, but his is oddly sad. "Yeah, we're okay." The frost spirit nods, and Jamie adds, "And you were right about Rowan, by the way. Even after I got the full story, I still can't really believe she walked out of the house with a six-foot, furry stranger."
A surprised laugh slips from Jack. "Me either. I was thinking about it, though, and I realized that the only spirits she's ever known are good ones. I'm sure you've talked to her about people who want to hurt her, but as far as she knows, spirits are all the kinds of people who give you gifts and candy and good dreams, you know? I know you don't really like them hearing about this kind of thing, but maybe when I come back in the winter, it's time to sit them down and warn them—and you—about other kinds of spirits that might visit, too. Just to be safe."
Jamie nods wryly. "I should probably have let you do that earlier. Either way, Rowan's never going to live this down. There's no way Etta will let her. Hell, there's no way I'll let her." The dark look on his friend's face makes Jack wince for his young friend, who will probably not be let out of sight for a very, very long time.
"Anyway," Jamie says. "The girls aren't allowed to leave the condo—we're leaving this afternoon anyway, so Pippa and I have spent the morning packing—but maybe you could sneak in for a while, if you want to keep them company?"
It is a tempting offer, and Jack sees past the thinly veiled and I want to make it up to you, but his wind has grown more persistent during the conversation, and it tugs his hair and sweeps across his bare feet. "I think I'd better go," Jack replies wryly. "I'll just say goodbye really quick."
The girls venture to open the window when Jamie waves them over from outside. Etta peers over her shoulder, but wherever Pippa is, she hasn't seen them move. Rowan is positively tearful, and she whispers quietly: "Jack, I'm really sorry I got you in trouble. I didn't mean to."
"It's okay. I'm just glad it wasn't a wendigo. I'm glad you're safe."
"You would have gotten the wendigo if it took Rowan, though," Etta says firmly, looking at Jack with an odd, searching expression on her face. "You were…kind of scary."
Jack smiles. "I know. I'm…sorry you saw that part. But it's my job to be scary sometimes when I have to protect people," he explains. "So yeah, I would have gotten the wendigo. Because who's looking out for you?"
"You," Rowan and Etta say in unison, smiling back at him.
"Me, that's who. Your Dad talked to you about why you shouldn't do what you did, right?" Jack asks Rowan.
She nods vigorously. "What's our new rule, Rowan?" Jamie asks cheerfully, leaning through the window.
"I am never allowed to go with anyone I don't know unless they tell me the special codeword," Rowan recites dutifully.
"What's the codeword?" Jack asks, looking between them.
"Puca," Ro replies mischievously.
"Good one," Jack grins.
"And…you and Dad aren't fighting anymore, are you?" asks Etta, frowning at him.
Jamie glances at Jack. "No, we're not. It was silly for us to be fighting in the first place."
"I know," she grumbles, reaching out to hug Jack, who has his wind lift him up a bit so he can reach through the window to return it. Rowan hugs him as well, clinging to his shoulders before she releases him.
"I gotta go, kids. But I'll see you again in a few months, so be good until then, okay?"
"We will," Etta agrees for them, but they don't move to leave.
It's Jamie's turn to wrap him in a fierce hug, and Jack holds on just as tightly. "Come back soon, alright?" he says gruffly.
"I always do my best to," Jack replies, though the sound is muffled by his friend's shoulder. It takes them a long time to let each other go.
"Well," the frost spirit says at last, gathering his wind around him, "see you on the other side."
The girls wave madly wave as he darts into the sky. Jamie smiles as well, but something tells the frost spirit that it will take Jamie some time to forgive himself for his part in the fight. Jack resolves himself to visiting sooner than November, if he can, because nothing will show Jamie Bennett that he is forgiven and everything is back to normal like a surprise snowball to the head.
Somewhere over Labrador, it occurs to Jack that for all the dark spirits he's encountered and ghost stories he's ever heard, between him and the other Guardians, the Bennetts are probably the best protected family in the entire world.
.
.
.
A/N: And that, my friends, is the story of why Jack will never be allowed to babysit the Bennett children again.
This story seems to be turning into a freak-of-the-week style thing, with a new spirit introduced and discarded each chapter, but don't worry. We should be seeing several of them again, including Mother Nature, Carpo, Anubis, the Summer and Spring Seasons, and possibly the pucas if I can fit them in somewhere. We'll also finally switch back to Jamie's POV next chapter.
Very late again getting to some of the review replies, and I'm extremely sorry about that. I've been working on and off this summer, and it makes for very long days away from the computer. It was something of a miracle getting this chapter out within the week!
How was it? Please review and let me know what you liked and disliked! :)
See you soon,
ket