A/N: A good ole cryptid road trip.
But the water does not look behind
It flees, runs away further
Where the eyes will not see her,
the water that wanders.
-Papusza, "The Water that Wanders"
Regina picked up some cds from a grocery store when they stopped to grab breakfast. She popped one into the disk player and a fast guitar song played out of the speakers. Henry thought the voice sounded familiar, but couldn't name the singer. They rolled down the windows in the truck, letting the song flow out into the Louisiana streets.
"Who is this?" Henry asked.
"Johnny Cash," said Regina. She tapped her thumb against the steering wheel in time to the music.
Henry stuck his hand out the window, moving it up and down with the wind. "Is it going to be a long drive?" he asked.
"It will be. Maine's pretty far away."
"Can we stop some places?"
"Yeah, we'll stop for food, and gas, bathroom breaks, maybe overnight. We'll see."
"What about just for fun?" He gave her his best puppy dog eyes. He had been practicing with Hank. She glanced over at him, looking confused.
"For fun?" she asked.
"Like on TV. When people go on roadtrips, they also go see things, like the largest ball of string, or the world's smallest toothbrush."
"You want to go to a bunch of roadside attractions?" Regina's eyebrows raised, but she had a hint of smile.
"Yep."
"Alright, kid, you've won me over. Any in particular you want to see?"
Henry just shrugged. He'd take whatever ones he could get.
"Ok, I've got an idea. Shouldn't take us too far off course."
"It's a house," said Henry, standing on the red brick walkway. It wasn't a particularly large or impressive house, either. Compared to Mallory's place, it was downright dinky. It was painted white and had green shutters and a little front porch.
"Is it haunted?" he asked.
"No, this is where Johnny Cash was born."
"The guy from the cd?"
"Yes, now go stand in front of it with Hank so I can take a picture," said Regina. She had gotten a disposable camera when they stopped for gas so she could document their road trip properly. Henry went and sat on the porch, scratching Hank behind the ears. It was no giant ball of string, but it was alright.
"You're lost, aren't you?"
"I am not lost!"
Regina was growing more irritated as they drove down the narrow highway. They had gotten off the interstate miles back, after Regina said she knew a shortcut to take them east to Tennessee. It was dark now, but Henry was pretty sure they were heading north. The road was getting more winding, and the towns seemed to be growing farther apart, replaced by vast expanses of dark forest and moonlit cow fields.
"Where are we then?" he asked.
"We're in Arkansas," she snapped. She paused and then added, "You know, it's harder to navigate from the ground. Usually I just fly around and I can see everything."
Henry nodded, thinking it was better not to keep arguing. He leaned his head against the window and rested his eyes. He must have fallen asleep, because he was awoken with a jolt as the truck lurched to a stop.
"Wha' happen'?" he asked, still sleepy and disoriented.
"We hit a deer," Regina said. She told him to stay in the car and went out to check on it. A blast of cold air hit him when she opened the door and Henry pulled his jacket tighter around him. He could see the deer lying in the road. Its chest was rising and falling and it struggled to stand as Regina approached. Its front legs were still working fine, but it couldn't get the back legs to move right. There was blood all over its hip. Regina took it by the head and snapped its neck. The deer collapsed down on the road, no longer struggling. She lifted it over her shoulder and took it around to the bed of the truck to throw it in.
"Poor young buck," she said, getting back in the truck. Hank woke up and started sniffing at her hands and at the back window, smelling the dead deer.
"I thought bucks had antlers," Henry said. He was still looking at the stain of blood on the pavement.
"Not in the winter. They shed them."
Regina continued down the dark road, but it wasn't long before she slammed on the brakes again. This time, Henry didn't have to ask the reason she had stopped. He pressed himself back into his seat, pushing away from the creature that stood in the beam of the car headlights.
It was huge for one thing, at least as big as a bear, and covered in thick black hair. Its eyes reflected light like a cat's. It had a gaping mouthing full of sharp teeth and two horns that curled over its head. It was panting and, with every breath, it exhaled a puff of steam. It stepped toward them and climbed up onto the hood of the car, causing the front to tip down under the creature's weight.
"Stay still," Regina said. She didn't need to tell Henry. He was absolutely frozen.
The creature continued up onto the roof and then into the bed of the truck. Hank yelped and jumped out of the backseat and into Regina's lap. The creature seemed occupied, though, sniffing at the dead buck. It fastened its jaws around the deer's neck and lifted it as if it weighed nothing. Then, it leapt out of the truck bed and ran into the woods without a look back.
Regina let out a sigh and tried to calm Hank, who was crying and shaking in her lap.
"We may be lost," she said.
After spending the night in a cheap motel, Regina and Henry managed to locate where they were in the Ozark Mountains of northern Arkansas. They headed east, passing briefly through Missouri and into Kentucky. There, they stopped in a town called Louisville known for its famous trestle bridge. Regina pulled the truck over to the side of the road, right underneath the bridge. She got out and Henry followed her, looking up at the dark and rusty metal. She took his hand in hers.
"What's so famous about it?" Henry asked. It just looked old as far as he could tell.
Regina pointed upward and then he saw it, a creature crawling lizard-like down one of the beams.
"They say there is a dangerous monster that lives on the bridge, a crazed thing that is more beast than human. It wields a bloody ax and murders unsuspecting people who walk under the bridge. Truly a horror," she said, watching as the thing reached the bottom of the beam and stood upright on the ground. It began to walk toward them, with its head looking too big for its body.
"Do you want to know the truth?" Regina asked, grinning down at him with sharp white teeth. He nodded.
"He's nothing but a satyr who scares tourists and steals their wallets," she laughed.
The thing was close enough now that Henry could make out its features. Its head was so large because it was a goat's head, with a furry snout, yellow eyes, and curling horns. It wore trousers, but no shirt, and carried only a black hat, no ax at all.
"How are you, Jefferson?" Regina asked, reaching her free hand out to shake the satyr's.
He bleated and then his face morphed into a human face, that of a young man with curly black hair. He still had horns, though they were much smaller, and he covered them with the hat.
"Haven't seen you in ages, Regina. How's your dad?" Jefferson asked.
Regina's smile fell and she looked at the ground. "He died. Last year."
"Oh, shit, I'm sorry. I liked him. Well, who's this?" He leaned down a bit to look at Henry.
"This is Henry. I picked him up in Wyoming. I'm looking after him now." She pulled Henry a little closer to her.
"Well, nice to meet you, Henry. I have a daughter about your age. Name's Paige. You two want to come 'round for dinner? I won't lie, I'm not the best cook, but you both look like you could use a little more meat on your bones," said Jefferson.
Despite his initial fear, Henry was beginning to like the satyr. He was an odd one, whistling a strange tune the whole way home and stealing a few wallets from people they passed on the street. Still, he seemed good natured enough. His house was small, but clean, and it had a terrific garden, full of gnarled trees, fragrant herbs, and blooming dandelions, even in the middle of winter.
"Paige's mom was a dryad. Paige inherited some of her abilities, and I'm not bad with the whole nature thing myself," Jefferson said, when he noticed Henry admiring the garden.
Paige ran out to greet them, throwing herself at Jefferson in a hug. She was a year older than Henry and nearly a head taller, but he liked her instantly. She had little horns beginning to pop up through her blonde hair, which she was immensely proud of, and a mischievous grin that seemed to stay permanently on her face. Henry hadn't had many friends at any of his schools, and other than foster siblings, he hadn't spent much time with kids his own age. Talking to Paige, though, he wished she would be his friend. It made it all the more hard to leave after dinner. But Louisville was too exposed, too high-profile, Regina said, so they had to move on.
They were driving through West Virginia on a moonlit night when a bunch of little shadows passed in front of the moon. Regina told Henry that they were bats, high up in the sky and flying like, well, bats out of hell. Then a larger shape followed them. Henry only caught a glimpse of it, backlit for a brief moment by the moon. It had wings, for sure. It was vaguely humanoid in shape but looked like it had something protruding from its head, or possibly two somethings. Even without the moon, he could see its eyes, glowing red and moving through the sky after the bats.
In New Jersey, they saw a building named Lucy that was shaped like an elephant. Henry liked that one. He had been fond of elephants ever since he saw one at the zoo on a class trip. They got to walk around inside of it and climb to the houdah on the elephant's back to look out on the town.
Unfortunately, when they were going through the Pine Barrens in the southern part of the state, they also saw what Henry could only describe as a horse-dragon. It was a monstrous thing, with cloven hooves, a long and sunken face, and leathery wings. It swooped down at the truck, but didn't pursue them when Regina stepped on the gas and raced down the road.
"I've never seen a real monster before I met you, and now I've seen three on one road trip," he said.
"It's been more than that, hasn't it?" Regina asked, still glancing in the rearview mirror from time to time to make sure the horse-dragon wasn't following them.
"No. Mallory and Jefferson were a bit strange, but they're not monsters."
Regina was quiet for a moment. "Is it too scary? Seeing all these things."
Henry shook his head emphatically. "Nope, I think you're tougher than them."
Emma and Graham were at least a day behind now. Their stop at the Tombstone branch of the Bureau had taken longer than expected, much longer than a simple drop off. The Tombstone agents were occupied at the time with a case of a rampaging desert sasquatch, which meant that Emma and Graham had had to process and contain the werewolves themselves. And, of course, there was the paperwork.
Emma didn't think there was much hope for the Laroy foster boy. There were some cryptids that were slow eaters and took weeks between their meals, but most were rather voracious, and she could think of no other reason that the murderer would have taken him, other than to eat him. Still, the least they could do was find the killer and bring them to justice. The entire B.C.C. was aware of the missing boy, as were many police stations throughout Wyoming, Montana, and Colorado. There were probably posters and facebook posts about him, but again, Emma wasn't hopeful.
The boy's scent was fainter by the time they got back on the road, but there was enough for Graham to follow. They passed through Texas and down Louisiana, and Emma's stomach sunk lower and lower as they moved out of the remote rural areas and onto more populated highways. Graham changed back into his human form and sat in the passenger seat with the window down, trying to focus on the scent as best he could. Then they arrived at New Orleans, the place they had both been dreading.
Nothing against the city itself, but the whole place was riddled with vampires, witches, bog beasts, and tricksters. There were so many cryptids packed into the place that all other smells were dominated by them. They drove around in circles for over an hour, covering the downtown and uptown neighborhoods, but Graham had lost the trail. They switched tactics, questioning cryptids and local police for any signs of the boy or the killer, but had no luck.
"Damn it," Graham muttered under his breath. Emma had to agree.
They sat in the car a moment, Emma drumming her fingers against the dashboard and Graham frowning intensely out the window.
"We should call the boss," he said.
Emma knew he was right, but she was dreading it nonetheless. She took out her cell phone and dialed the number. Better to just get it over with.
"Director White's office, how can I help you?" said the chipper voice of the secretary.
"Hi, Belle. I need to talk to her."
Isabelle French had been the director's secretary for about as long as Emma could remember. She was clever and so organized that it was intimidating. She always seemed very sweet, but Emma knew she had a bit of a dark side that could flare up.
"I'll transfer you through," said Belle.
Emma waited as the call switched lines and the director answered the phone.
"Hi, Mom," said Emma.
"Emma, what's the update?" said Director White, straight to business. Her mother had been that way even before Emma had joined the Bureau, so she was well used it.
"The werewolves have been processed and incarcerated in Tombstone. Agent Humbert and I were able to follow the scent to New Orleans, but then we lost it."
There was a pause before the director said, "I see. Any witnesses that could have seen them?"
"We asked the usual sources, Johnny the Rat, some of the vampires at Club La Morte, the Weird Sisters, but no one has seen the kid." Emma shuffled her feet a little. She was nearly thirty, but somehow her mother still managed to make her feel like a grounded child.
"Right, better head back to headquarters, then. We'll see if the oracle can tell us anything."
Graham was watching Emma as she hung up the phone. Due to his exceptional hearing, she didn't need to tell him what the director had said. "DC, here we come," he said, sounding far more upbeat than she felt. Emma put the car in drive and they rolled out of the parking lot. Phone calls were one thing, but seeing her mother in person was quite another.