Page 31 of Something Cryptid This Way Comes
“That’s what you thought. What about the threeheat signatures?”
“Two of them don’t look like animals, but they don’t look like people either.”
The inn comes into view. Another half block until I can lock out nosy neighbors and cuddle on the couch with my best friend and our dogs. I’m not sure how this is my life right now, but I’m enjoying every moment while it lasts. “That’s good, right?”
He shrugs. “It’s not bad. Just inconclusive. It’s much better than the third heat signature. He thinks that one was a person. I thought so too, but the swing of the arms looked off to me. That’s why I sent it to him. We agree it was someone trying to look like they were something else.” The disgust marring his features is clear.
I press a soft kiss to his cheek, his expression softening the way I intended, then pass him the bag of food so I can unlock the front door. “I don’t get why people would put time and energy into faking a sighting.”
“From what I’ve seen, the main reasons are doing it for attention or as a hoax. For investigators of those sightings, both are a waste of time and resources.” He follows me inside, holding the bag up as the dogs charge us in greeting. “I can sort of understand the motivation behind someone doing it for attention. But what really pisses me off are the people who do it as a prank, regardless of whether they’re trying to be funny or malicious.”
“Who wouldn’t be angry?” My voice soft, I bend down, giving the dogs love, then take the bag so Bram can do the same.
“That’s really what’s driving me to figure out the new cryptid sightings here. I don’t like seeing Agnes scared.”
We bring the food to the kitchen, and while I plate up our meals, Bram pours the dogs’ food into their bowls.
I put the remains of our milkshakes in the refrigerator andget glasses of water for us. “Are you still good with eating in the living room while we watch the episode?”
“The couch has my name on it. Plus, I want to see what you think about the show.”
We settle on the cushions, side by side, with our plates on the coffee table. Bram navigates through the apps on the screen, then to his podcast channel, and the Mabel episode. The dogs wander over to see what we’re up to, but both know better than to try stealing food. Bandit climbs into Hades’s dog bed, and after wandering around the room, Hades plops himself onto Bandit’s bed, though his legs and head overhang it.
Bram places his phone beside his plate and opens it to the comments section of the video. His subscribers like the premiere option so people are watching it in real time together.
“Need me to hop on as comments moderator?” I grab my phone from the side table.
“Yeah, if you don’t mind. I don’t know if Charlie’s available tonight. I’ll delete trolls as I see them, but having two sets of eyes and hands are better.”
“No problem.” It’s something I’ve done for years, and has been a way of staying close to and supporting Bram.
He points at the top comment. “There’s one. We’re not wasting time arguing or trying to convince anyone, or let anyone insult my viewers.”
I delete the comment and block the user from the channel. “Done.”
“Thanks.” Rolling his shoulders, he leans into me. “The ones who are so sure they’re right about cryptids not being real surprise me because scientists discover new species all the time. And when you have an experience that can’t be explained, it makes you want to be on the forefront of the discovery, atleast that’s true for me.”
My stomach grumbles and I grab my plate, balancing it on one thigh and my phone on the other. “I get it. Like learning that unicorns were actually rhinos, or goats and antelopes with one horn, or that what people thought of as unicorn horns were really narwhal tusks. Or that the bones attributed to dragons or giants were really dinosaurs. It’s not some gotcha moment when science disproves a myth or we learn better information.”
“Exactly. Some people think the Loch Ness Monster is a plesiosaur.”
“‘Plesiosaurs are extinct Mesozoic marine reptiles, but what if some survived and are living in Loch Ness?’” I quote the opening line of his podcast on the subject.
Beaming a smile, he grabs hold of my hand. “You’re amazing. So supportive."
“I liked the story you sent me from your research trip there, when you talked of diving in that loch.”
“Then that story will be the one I tell you tonight. This summer, we can go to Scotland and look for Nessie together.” He cuts through the meatloaf with his fork, shoveling a piece into his mouth.
“That’d be fun.” Whether he means just the two of us or going as our annual vacation with the guys, I’m game.
He tugs on the hem of my shirt. “You’ll be in a land of tartan. So much plaid. You’ll fit right in.”
Laughing, I fling a fry at him. “Says the guy who’s lived in those plaid shirts since he arrived.”
Bram shrugs and smiles, stealing another fry from my plate. “You said I could.”
We turn our attention to the TV. On screen, Bram introduces himself and the episode, then he talks about the day he saw Mabel for the first time, and met me. There’s a photo of us as kids, taken that first summer, and thenanother, of us at Cryptid Night.
