Chapter 8
Take care of him. Gunnar rolled his eyes at Mattie’s suggestion. That imp did not need taking care of. Unless it was in the most gangster definition of that phrase. Blueberry was a pain in the backside. How Mattie could like him was beyond Gunnar.
Then again, even ugly babies were loved by their mothers.
He chuckled. It was funny because Mattie seemed fairly levelheaded otherwise. But the pretty ones were often crazy, weren’t they? Too bad.
After checking the first weather station and sending in the data, Gunnar got back in his truck.
He looked around the interior of his cab, wondering where the imp might be. He glanced into the back seat, paying close attention to the surfaces. The imp was so small, Gunnar wasn’t sure he’d notice—wait a minute.
There was the tiniest depression in the rear passenger’s seat. Could that be the imp?
Mattie had said feeding Blueberry was the way to keep him happy.
As much as Gunnar disliked the idea of sharing his supplies, it seemed like something he should at least try.
Of course, that would mean he’d have to return to town to restock sooner than anticipated, but if it helped him get rid of the imp, then he was all for it.
“I could really go for some ice cream. Maybe I’ll run home and have some.” As he talked, he watched the depression. “Probably not the best idea for lunch, but ice cream really sounds good.”
Was that movement? It was hard to tell. He faced forward and adjusted the rearview mirror so he could watch without being obvious.
“Might snag a few of those chocolates, too. Or another piece of cake.”
Definitely movement.
Gunnar almost smiled. Should he burn another wish and do what Mattie had suggested? He supposed it couldn’t hurt. He couldn’t imagine how the imp could possibly twist his words this time, so it felt pretty safe. And being able to keep an eye on the imp was definitely a good idea.
It would be better to have Blueberry visible than not. It would also mean Gunnar only had four wishes left to go.
Not that he had any intention of using those wishes. That was exactly what the imp wanted, and he was not about to give that creature ammunition against him.
He sat a moment longer, thinking. Finally, with no small amount of aggravation, he said, “I wish to undo my first wish.”
Blueberry appeared in front of him, grinning like there was no tomorrow, shedding little flakes of green dust. “Missed me, didn’t ya?”
“Not in the slightest.”
Blueberry was unfazed by that truth. “So we’re going back to your place for ice cream and chocolate?”
“No. I’m working. I’m not going home until the day is over.”
That took the smile off the imp’s face. “I’m hungry.”
“There’s a bag in the back with some protein bars and meat sticks in it. You can have one of those.”
Blueberry slumped midair. “Seriously? I already ate those.”
Gunnar stared at him, trying to process what he’d said. “Have another.”
“I just said I ate them.”
“All of them?” Gunnar’s mouth fell open. “That was a week’s worth of bars and meat sticks.”
Blueberry shrugged. “Didn’t taste like a week’s worth.” Then, as if to punctuate his words, he belched, blowing his meaty burp all over Gunnar.
Gunnar opened the door and got out. “You are a disgusting creature with no manners. Do you act like this around Mattie? Because I have a hard time believing she puts up with it.”
Blueberry flew out after him. “Mattie would never let me get away with that stuff. But you’re a man, and I’m a man, and this is just man’s stuff, right?”
Gunnar shot him a look. “Just because I’m a man doesn’t mean I’m interested in your bodily emanations.”
Blueberry circled lazily around Gunnar. “You know, for a bear shifter, you’re kind of uptight.”
“I am not uptight.” Gunnar thought about jumping back into the truck and driving off, but he had a sinking feeling Blueberry would find his way back to the cabin anyway.
“You won’t even make a wish unless you make it accidentally.”
“All that proves is I’m too smart for you.”
“Sure. You’re too smart for me. Meanwhile, you could have a lifetime supply of protein bars and meat sticks if you just wish it to be so.”
“Nope. Not falling for that.” Gunnar knew better. A wish like that would end up with his house covered in a mound of those very things. Blueberry would dump the entire amount on him at once. He just knew it.
Blueberry shrugged. “You need to talk to Jayne about her fridge.”
“Who?” The radio in Gunnar’s truck crackled to life, ending that conversation. “Ranger Briggs, this is dispatch, over.”
Gunnar went back to the truck, leaned in, and grabbed the handset. “This is Ranger Briggs, over.”
“We’ve got a report there are teenagers headed to the falls with the intent to tag the rocks.”
Gunnar frowned. “On my way.” He glanced back at Blueberry. “Get in. I’ve got work to do.”
For once, Blueberry did exactly what Gunnar wanted him to do.
He went straight there and pulled his Tacoma off the service road near the falls. He killed the engine and let out a sigh that could have felled a pine. He already knew it would be tourists. It was always tourists. And the local teens knew better.
He stepped out into the cool air. The roar of the falls filled the woods like white noise, mist drifting up through the trees even this far back.
Blueberry followed him out of the truck.
“If you come with me, you can’t be seen.”
Blueberry disappeared, then Gunnar felt movement on his shoulder. He wasn’t sure he liked having the imp that close, but it was better than not knowing where the creature was.
Gunnar started for the trail that led to the falls. The path was damp with dew, and pine needles stuck to his boots.
The imp whispered in his ear. “This is gonna be fun. Can I help? Just a little?”
“No, and be quiet,” Gunnar muttered. “One sound out of you louder than a whisper and you’re back under the strainer. Permanently.”
Blueberry snickered. “So you’ve decided you want more wishes?”
Gunnar ignored him and moved quietly down the trail, his bear senses picking up the faint metallic tang of fresh paint before he saw the kids. Three of them—two boys and a girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen—huddled near a flat granite outcrop just off the main viewing area.
They were only a few yards below him, and there was nowhere for them to run unless they went back down the trail.
One boy shook a can, the rattle of the marble inside echoing over the water. Another held a phone up, filming. The girl was crouched down, already spraying something crude in neon pink paint.
Gunnar stepped into the open, boots crunching deliberately on the path as he cleared his throat. “Graffiti is strictly prohibited.”
The three lurched like startled deer.
The taller boy recovered first. He wore a hoodie and a backwards ball cap. “Whoa, dude. Just chill. It’s art. You never heard of Banksy?”
Gunnar crossed his arms, chest out, letting his six-foot-something frame do some of the work for him. “This area’s protected. Zero tolerance for graffiti.” He pointed at the nearby trash bin. “Dump the cans.”
The girl tucked hers behind her back. “We’re not hurting anything. It’s just, like, rocks. They could use a little color.”
“Rocks that belong to the town and the state,” Gunnar said flatly. “And the falls aren’t a canvas. In the bin. Now.”
The shorter boy laughed nervously. “Come on, man. It’s for TikTok. No big deal.”
Blueberry’s voice buzzed softly in Gunnar’s ear, full of delight. “I love TikTok. Mattie lets me watch on her phone. Should I make their phones blow up?”
“No,” Gunnar growled under his breath, although it was a tempting offer.
The kids exchanged glances. The tall one stepped forward, trying for bravado. “You gonna call the cops? Over some paint?”
Gunnar didn’t blink. “I am a law enforcement officer. But if you cooperate now, maybe you’ll just end up with a warning and community service. Keep pushing, and it’s vandalism charges. Felony territory.”
The girl hesitated, then slowly pulled her can out and tossed it at the trash bin. It didn’t go in, but she seemed in no hurry to remedy that. “Fine. Whatever.”
The shorter boy followed suit, muttering, “This sucks.”
The tall one held on to his, smirking. “Make me.”
Blueberry apparently couldn’t resist. “Ooh, defiance. My favorite.”
Before Gunnar could react, a faint shimmer rippled the air. The tall boy glared at his spray can like something was wrong with it. He yelped and dropped it like it was on fire. The can hit the rock with a soft thunk. But it wasn’t a can anymore.
It had split apart into chunks of cake. Vanilla by the looks of it, the layers frosted in buttercream with tiny rainbow sprinkles.
The tall boy stared at it, mouth open. “What the actual—?”
The girl leaned in. “Is that, like … cake?”
The tall boy shook his head. “Dude, that was not cake when I bought it.”
The shorter boy poked one of the chunks with his finger. A dollop of frosting came away on his fingertip. He stuck it in his mouth. “Holy crap. It’s real. Like, bakery real.”
Blueberry whispered gleefully in Gunnar’s ear, “You’re welcome. Chocolate would’ve been too obvious, don’t you think? Vanilla’s classier.”
Gunnar clenched his hands into fists. “Put the other cans in the bin now.”
The shorter boy scooped the remaining two cans, which were still cans, and chucked them in the bin. The girl kept staring at the cake like it might sprout legs. The tall one finally tore his eyes away from the dessert and backed up a step. “Okay, okay, we’re going. This place is weird.”
“That way,” Gunnar said, pointing down the trail as he took a few steps toward them to hurry them along. The kids might think it was weird now, but a few sips of local water and they’d forget all about it. “Head back to the parking lot. Slowly. And delete that video.”
The tall one opened his mouth to argue, then looked down at the cake again and thought better of it. They turned and hurried off, the tall one casting curious glances over his shoulder at the vanilla monument to his bad decisions.
Once they were out of sight, Gunnar exhaled hard. Blueberry materialized on the rock the teens had been about to vandalize, lounging like he’d just won a prize, one tiny leg dangling over the edge.
“See? I helped. Minimal damage. Maximum dessert. And it didn’t even cost you a wish.”
Gunnar glared down at him. “You turned industrial spray paint into a cake. How is that minimal?”
Blueberry shrugged, wings fluttering. “It’s delicious. And nontoxic. I even used real butter. Besides, that kid needed a lesson. A little shock to the system.”
Gunnar scooped the imp up by the scruff of his neck, gentle enough not to hurt, firm enough to make a point, and dropped him into his shirt pocket.
Blueberry squawked indignantly. “Hey! Personal space!”
“Quiet,” Gunnar said, starting back toward his truck. “Or next time I put you in my thermos.”
Blueberry went silent, but Gunnar could feel the tiny vibrations of suppressed laughter against his chest. He glanced heavenward. What had he done to deserve this?
He inspected the vanilla cake still sitting innocently on the rock. For half a second he considered leaving it. No doubt the local raccoon population might enjoy a sugar rush. Then he sighed and used some fallen leaves to scoop the chunks up and put them in the bin, too.
The falls roared on behind him, indifferent. It was just another day in Nocturne Falls, but then he smiled. The cake thing had actually been kind of funny. And it had certainly done the trick with those juvenile delinquents in the making.
Somewhere, Mattie was probably wondering what her imp was up to and what was taking Gunnar so long to make his wishes.
He shook his head. One problem at a time.