Page 10 of A Shade of Myself
3
One person’sfitness paradise was another’s hell on earth—and with every step I took on this ungodly early Tuesday morning, I became more convinced that this nightmare had been conceived by an actual demon.
Billed as a “hike,” the Grouse Grind was more of a clusterfuck of makeshift stairs mixed with steep rocks and dirt slopes that wound up the side of Grouse Mountain in North Vancouver. There was nothing to look at along the way except trees, soil, and the backs of all the people passing me. The joggers were the worst. How dare they flaunt their strong quads and working hearts?
Monsters, all of them. But none more so than my two “friends” Jude Rachefsky and Ava Lewis, who’d harped on me that as a Vancouverite I had to do the Grind at least once in my life.
“Fuck it,” I wheezed, almost tripping over yet another uneven rock stair. “These people brought it on themselves. Let the dybbuks take them.”
The two women chuckled, their laughter as light as the sheen of sweat on their brows, versus my red-faced mess.
Even their peer pressure wouldn’t have been enough to convince me had there not been a bigger danger. I’d managed to get a few hours of sleep on Monday after I got home from Davide’s place before being woken up by Emmett with a call about a potentially enthralled Ohrist.
Two more calls came in that day and the one thing they all had in common? Each of the Ohrists had done the Grouse Grind recently—and not during the Danger Zone. It would have been worrisome enough if dybbuks were hanging out on the trail during the twenty-four hours from sunset Friday to sunset Saturday when they were given time off from their torture in Gehenna to come to earth and find an unwitting magic user to possess, but all the hikers had done the Grind outside of that period.
They all swore they hadn’t gotten drunk or high during the Danger Zone, and had they not all had this one thing in common, I’d have believed they were lying.
Better safe than sorry, which was why I’d decided to check it out today—for the sake of the poor magic people humping their way up the mountain. However, I seemed to be the lone humpee in a sea of disgustingly hale fitness freaks.
“You want to be stuck saving enthralled hikers every weekend?” Ava said, nimbly hopping stairs like a goat. “Because you know that’s what’s going to happen. It’ll become a local Ohrist ritual. Grind, Miri, brunch.”
“Tatiana was right.” I dragged myself up with the help of the wooden railing. “No good deed goes unpunished.”
Truthfully, Tatiana had been thrilled about this new development, visions of dollar signs dancing in her eyes. I, on the other hand, was regretting my insistence on setting up a hotline to report enthralleds. The possibility of asshole Ohrists using me as a magic morning-after pill was high.
“That was the longest section.” From the top of the staircase, Jude flashed me a thumbs-up, looking daisy-fresh in a white sports bra and cute purple sweatpants. Even her short curly pigtails were obscenely perky.
Ava frowned, sunlight catching the bling on the corner of her cat-eye glasses and the glittery flower design on the headband in her short afro.
“What’s with the frown?” I panted, not having enough energy to point at her. I’d tied my sweater around my waist, and since I’d been using it to wipe off my sweat, it was gross and wet. My T-shirt was streaked with dirt, my lank ponytail was matted to my skull, and none of my attire matched.
“Nothing.” Ava tied her hoodie around her shoulders. “You’re doing great. See?” She pointed at the sign congratulating us for making it a quarter of the way up.
I braced my hands on my thighs, my legs burning. “That’s a typo, right? They mean three-quarters of the way.” Gasping for air, I read the rest of the sign and swore. “That was the easy section? That’s it, I’m going back down.”
“Don’t quit now,” Ava said.
“No, even the sign advises it. There’s a checklist.”
Jude ripped my water bottle out of my hand and shook it. “You still have Gatorade, so that’s one of three items you’re good on.”
I pointed at the next item. “I’m exhausted.”
“Are you dizzy? Light-headed?” she challenged.
“No, but you will be when I push you off this mountain for forcing me into this.”
“Ouch,” Ava said.
Jude nodded. “Yeah, she’s a bitch when she exercises. Don’t ever go cross-country skiing with her.”
“Hey, I’m a delight in Zumba class,” I said. “This isn’t exercise. It’s masochism.”
An old lady coming up at a steady clip behind us used her cane to nudge me aside on the uneven path. “If I can do it, you can do it,” she said, tramping up the narrow switchback trail without hesitation.
Fairly certain that wasn’t true, I imagined ripping that cane from her hand to nudge her off the mountain.
Jude shrugged. “You’re right. This is too hard for you. Go back down.”
