When the Lights Went Out #2

Chapter Two

Platform [pl-aat-foh-rm]: The entry point to the monster realm. Known as No Man’s Land. Formerly inhabited by the dragons until they were exiled from the realm. It currently boasts no inhabitants and is guarded by a troll.

Everything returned to Coyote with a gasp as the wind whipped his face. Wind that shouldn’t have been inside the classroom.

His captor flung him away. Coyote stumbled forward, the unexpected weight of the dictionary causing him to drop to his knees on pale yellow grass. Unsure of where he was or who had grabbed him, Coyote grasped for the dictionary and pulled it toward him. The cover now had a bold gray stripe, instead of the previous red color, printed between the two blue stripes.

“Rubbish,” a man said above him.

Coyote jerked upward, clutching the dictionary. A pale white scar ran through the man’s left eye, which glowed green as opposed to the shades of gray of the rest of him. His right eye was gray. The man’s hair whipped around his head and torso. He even had the chiseled jawline Coyote liked so much. He crossed his arms and glared down his nose at Coyote.

“Utter rubbish,” the man said, scanning the horizon.

“Who the hell are you?” Coyote demanded. Had he been struck by lightning and transported into a dream? Whatever had happened, he wasn’t in Kansas anymore. As unsettling as that should have been, he remained woefully calm.

Unlike his captor, who seemed to have lost his mind, assuming he had one to begin with. “Shit, shit, shit!” The man threw himself to the ground with arms guarding his head.

Coyote held the dictionary between them like a shield. Just in case. Even though the man was less intimidating hunched over on the ground. “Well? What’s going on?”

The man trembled. “It was an accident,” he whispered. “Bloody hell. I can’t be caught again.”

Using his hiking boot, Coyote nudged the man to the ground by his torso. The boot was dark gray instead of maroon now, but his distressed jeans were still a faded blue. “Where did you bring me? What’s happening here?” He couldn’t snatch a guy out of a classroom to bring him heavens-knows-where and then freak out about the whole thing. Coyote should’ve been the one freaking out in this situation.

The man’s arms curled around his stomach. The dark gray crosstie around his neck rumpled against the yellowed grass. Long black hair fanned out underneath him. His mismatched eyes darted frantically about the empty space before landing on Coyote and his dictionary shield. The man jumped up and closed cold hands around Coyote’s. “Is he here? Do you see him?”

Coyote was too shocked to throw the guy off. He made a show of studying the barren space. All around, the world was flat, gray, and assaulted by the harsh arctic wind, making him shiver. The ground dropped away from the grass around them, making it appear as though they stood on a circular platform. Directly behind Coyote, a covered bridge was anchored in the soil, crossing the chasm between the platform and a chunk of land in the distance. “Nope,” he said. “It’s just us here.”

The man’s hands ceased to tremble, but he did not let go. “Thank the ghouls.” His grip tightened, sharp nails piercing Coyote’s flesh.

Coyote yelped, dropping the dictionary. “Let go!”

With the man in his face, Coyote had a great view of two sharp, slender canine teeth behind his smiling lips. His breath carried a metallic tang, and his hands were like two blocks of ice. Coyote jerked backwards, but the man held firm.

No way was he a vampire. This couldn’t be happening. A vampire kidnapped him from his remedial English class during a thunderstorm and a blackout. Pulling Coyote close with one arm, the man tipped Coyote’s head to the side, exposing a long stretch of his neck. Coyote struggled against his captor’s hold and squeezed his eyes shut, heat rushing to his face. The man’s nose—or maybe it was his jaw, Coyote didn’t open his eyes to find out—traced a fleeting line up and down Coyote’s neck, sending shivers throughout his body.

“Are you afraid?” The man’s breath tickled Coyote’s flesh.

Aroused, certainly, but not afraid. Coyote swallowed to dampen his cracked throat. A sharp tooth grazed his neck. He couldn’t move, didn’t even want to breathe, but his lungs burned from the harsh wind that raked claws through his hair. He managed to wedge the dictionary between them and used its heft to throw the man to the ground.

The man landed with a grunt, eyes fixing on the book Coyote held. “Get rid of that accursed thing.”

“What? The dictionary?” Coyote looked down at its cover. The D had been replaced by an F so that title read Fictionary. Not sure what that meant, he backed away from his captor. “Whatever you’re doing here, take me back right this instant.”

As the man clambered to his feet, another gust of wind whipped around his cloak, revealing his long, lithe body underneath. “I can’t do that,” he growled. He studied the barren land again, then ducked as though he expected a horde of angry birds to maul him at any moment. “I’d be better off if I wasn’t seen with you.”

He stalked toward the covered bridge at the edge of the land. Not thinking, Coyote chucked the book at his backside. It landed with a thud on the grass, many feet shy of hitting the stranger. The sound did cause the stranger to stop walking and spin back around, so Coyote took that as a win.

Rushing forward, Coyote scooped the book back in his arms, unwilling to let his weapon be used against him. “What does that mean?”

The man’s pale gray lips frowned. He started to turn away again, but Coyote grabbed the edge of his cloak, almost losing the Fictionary again in his scramble.

“You can’t leave me here!”

Stiffening, the man considered the area, two-toned eyes darting back and forth. Finally, they focused on Coyote as the man released a huge sigh. “No, you’re right,” he said, shoulders sagging. “I can’t leave you in No Man’s Land. I cannot afford the heavy cosset abandonment fines.”

Then he was there, suddenly grasping Coyote. His cold hand caressed Coyote’s cheek, threatening to plunge him back into arousal. Coyote leveraged the book between them to push them apart.

“You also can’t do that.” Coyote searched for whatever had the man on edge. Seeing nothing, he said, “Take me home, and I’ll do what I can to help you.”

The man laughed humorlessly and smoothed out the wrinkles in his sleeves and dark gray vest. “I need a beautiful woman to present to Rochester. I owe him a gambling debt. I could swear there was supposed to be one standing right where I took you from. But, alas, my eyesight has been bloody awful since the transplant.”

“Done,” Coyote said. “Take me home, and I’ll let you have my writing professor. She’s the woman you’re thinking of. She was right next to me.”

“Fine,” he growled and pushed past Coyote. He walked toward the covered bridge. “And tuck that illegal book under your shirt or something. We can’t let the troll see it.”