Page 2 of Blade

HENLEY

“Why doesmonster hunting always go so wrong?” SomehowI’dended up stuck in the trap I’d set up instead of the monster I was supposed to be hunting and that was actually the least of my problems.

Because I liked being tied up.

“You can figure this out.” Giving myself a pep talk probably made me look nuts but I was hoping I was the only one in the sandy woods that surrounded Bladenboro. “You managed not to offend that Bigfoot. This is going to be fine.”

Nothing ever went fine, but if I repeated it enough, I’d believe it eventually.

“Okay. What do you do first?” If panic wasn’t an option, I needed to figure out a plan. “Um. What do I have in my pockets?”

Nothing helpful unless breath mints would help me get myself out of a rope net. It’d seemed like a good plan when I’d been going through my options, but somehow, I’d forgotten to include how fucking clumsy I could be into my metrics.

“Live and learn.” Yes. “I’ll remember for next time.”

I really wasn’t a complete fuckup no matter what my family thought. “You’re going to catch an actual monster who’s causing problems.”

Even the guys on the Monster Network server didn’t think The Beast of Bladenboro was a thinking kind of monster. He wasn’t someone who was just trying to live a different type of life. He was dangerous and eating local livestock. He had to be a legit dangerous creature.

Otherwise they’d have found a way to invite him to the Solstice Festival. They were borderline pushy about making sure everyone could go.

“This is just a setback. You can do this. It’s literally the family business.” It would’ve been nicer if the family business was something more relaxing like world domination or working in the tech industry, but I wasn’t that lucky. I’d always thought it made sense that if there were monsters someone needed to hunt them, but eventually I’d just come to realize my family was bat shit nuts…and probably the monsters that needed to be eradicated.

“Next time you’re going to remember to put a knife in your pocket.” It wasn’t doing any good in my backpack at least ten feet down. “And next time you’re also going to remember to practice not talking to yourself.”

I didn’t do very well on my own, but luckily being on my own meant no one could realize I was just as nuts as the rest of my family.

“At least you’re not homicidal.” That made me better than them. “It’s got to be homicide if what they’re trying to kill talks back.”

Right?

I really didn’t have anyone in real life to confirm that with, but the monsterish people I’d met online definitely would’veagreed with me if they knew I was a human who came from a line of possible serial killers.

“No. That line of thinking is not helpful.” Mostly because I couldn’t tell how many people-monster-things any of them had killed. “Big fish kind of stories don’t count.”

Ugh.

I was the fish this time.

“Note to self, no morefishingwith any kind of net.”

Okay.

“Stop getting distracted.” What could I do ten feet off the ground hanging from a tree? “Can you reach the knot? Can you reach the tree? Can you stop talking to yourself?”

No.

No.

No.

“Good grief.” I really shouldn’t have gone out monster hunting before breakfast. “How long does it take to die from dehydration?”

Had anyone in the family died that way?

We’d fallen off cliffs and out of trees and a variety of stupid and newsworthy ways. Basically, if there was a Florida Man type of story where someone ended up dead I was probably related to them, but I’d always thought I was too smart to end up like that.

“It’s probably fucking genetic.” I was really hoping how hard the rope was making me wasn’t genetic, though. “Not going to think about that.”