Page 1 of Guarded By the Bigfoot (Mystic Ridge Monster Mates #1)

PARKER

M y office window had a habit of collecting magic like other windows collected dust. Today, the fae musicians outside had woven a melody so ethereal it left crystalline notes trembling against the glass, each vibration etching spectral patterns that captured starlight like prisoners.

Beautiful, if you didn’t know the deadly undertone of their song.

The kind of music that could enchant a soul right out of its body.

I cranked up my noise-canceling headphones (blessed by the local priestess, because I learn from my mistakes) and focused on stuffing case files into my messenger bag.

A fresh goblin migration needed investigating, but what I wanted was for this day to end.

Ten hours of cataloging shapeshifter identity violations had left my eyes burning and my patience worn razor-thin.

“Parker Woods!”

A sparkle-bombed tsunami of mischief burst through my door in the form of Miranda from Supernatural Resources. She wore a crown of living vines that twined through her hair like excited silver snakes. One tried to bite her ear. She didn’t notice.

“You can’t leave yet! The party’s just starting, and Matthias from Clan Relations brought his famous enchanted brew again!”

I tapped my headphones and gave an exaggerated shrug, but Miranda wasn’t having it. She flicked her wrist, and my music cut out in a puff of pink smoke. Sparkling and clingy. Unpredictable stuff that clung to everything. Great. One sneeze and I’d detonate like a glitter grenade.

“Come on,” she said. “Even the monsters take breaks during the Wild Moon Festival!”

“That’s like a week away. The last time I took a break and tried Matthias’s brew, I woke up speaking in riddles for three days,” I said.

“But it’s the biggest celebration of the year,” she huffed. “Why can’t you stay?”

“Let’s see...” I ticked off the cases on my fingers. “Three poltergeists playing ping-pong with furniture in Pioneer Square, a rogue tooth fairy running a black-market dental operation, and something’s been eating all the garden gnomes in Bloom Valley.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Please, that’s like every day around here.”

“And another day that I have to be back here at the crack of dawn. Some of us actually need sleep, Miranda.”

The Agency of Realm Control, better known as ARC, had one job: keep the magical and mundane worlds from tearing each other apart.

When something went bump in the night, or turned into a seven-foot demon threatening to eat city hall, it was ARC that took care of the mess.

We’re basically a supernatural cleanup crew with no hazard pay.

“You’ll miss out on all the fun!”

“Raincheck,” I said.

Miranda pouted but didn’t follow as I slipped into the hallway. I was halfway to the elevator when a sharp voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Agent Woods.”

I turned to find Director Nolan striding toward me, his stern expression suggesting someone had replaced his coffee with pixie dust again. Been there, buddy.

“Director,” I said, straightening.

“Come with me,” he said, not waiting for a response.

My stomach sank as I followed him to his office. The last time I’d been summoned like this, it had involved an angry dragon shifter and three weeks’ worth of paperwork.

Nolan closed the door behind us, gesturing for me to sit. I didn’t.

“Is this about the garden gnome thing?” I asked. “Because I’m pretty sure it’s a troll, and I already submitted a?—”

“This isn’t about gnomes,” he interrupted. “I’m reassigning you.”

“Reassigning me?”

“There have been anomalies detected near the mountain section of the Veil.” He tapped a file on his monitor. “Another agent was scheduled to investigate, but he’s... unavailable. You’ll be taking his place.”

“Unavailable as in ‘taking a tropical vacation’ unavailable, or ‘currently being digested by something with big teeth’ unavailable?”

Nolan raised an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?” The kind of eyebrow raise that said, “I’m choosing to ignore your commentary for the sake of my blood pressure.”

“No.” I blinked. “But you’re sending me to the Veil. Last I checked, it was still a restricted area for ARC.”

“Well. Right now, it’s a priority,” he said firmly. “The outpost is fully stocked. Try not to get lost this time. And steer clear of the village. Agent Spencer is still walking around with that damn tail.”

I heard a swish as he sent the file to me.

“If you leave now, you’ll be there before dark.”

I opened my mouth to respond about unwanted appendages, but the look in his eyes stopped me cold. Whatever was happening near the Veil, it was big enough to make a vein pop on his forehead.

“I’ll leave right away, sir.”

By the time I’d grabbed my go-bag from my office and slogged to the parking lot, a storm had popped up. Rain swirled through the air, and the wind howled like a banshee with seasonal allergies.

I tossed my bag into the passenger seat of my old Jeep, which creaked its usual protest when I slid behind the wheel. The fat drops of rain splattered against the windshield like nature’s warning shots.

“Okay, girl.” I patted the dashboard. “Let’s see if we can keep ourselves out of trouble.”

The storm grew angrier as I made my way out of the city.

Mystic Ridge wasn’t just a city, it was an entire region, stretching from the coastal towns to the misty peaks.

Its bustling downtown core buzzed with towering skyscrapers, magical districts, and eclectic burrows where humans and creatures mingled.

But outside the city limits? That’s where things got weird. And trust me, I know weird.

Lightning split the sky in unnatural colors. Purple, green, and something I’m pretty sure wasn’t on the standard color wheel. The rain hammered down so hard it sounded like angry elementals having a drum circle on my roof.

“This isn’t normal,” I muttered, squinting through sheets of rain that seemed to defy nature. “Even for Mystic Ridge, this is hitting an eleven on the weird-shit-o-meter.”

The mountain was where the Veil was thinnest, where the mysterious Guardian anchored the balance between realms. It was also where no sane person would want to be during a monsoon.

But here I was.

The higher I climbed, the worse it got. Lightning crashed closer now, leaving afterimages that looked like angry faces in the sky. The wind howled with voices that definitely weren’t in any weather forecast I’d ever heard.

“This is fine,” I said to myself, white-knuckling the steering wheel. “Everything’s fine. Just your average, run-of-the-mill, possibly apocalyptic storm. Nothing to see here.”

My weather app had given up entirely, now displaying: ˉ\_(ツ)_/ˉ

Fantastic.

The road ahead twisted like a serpent, barely visible through the sheets of rain that seemed to be falling sideways, upways, and several other directions that shouldn’t exist. My wipers were having an existential crisis, squealing in protest against water that occasionally glowed.

“Come on,” I muttered, leaning forward like those extra two inches would help me see better. “Just a few more miles to the outpost. Then you can have your nervous breakdown in the safety of government-issued shelter.”

The Jeep groaned in protest as we rounded another curve, the engine straining against both gravity and what felt suspiciously like magic.

“Don’t you dare,” I warned my vehicle. “We’ve been through worse.”

And then it happened.

A bolt of lightning struck the road ahead. The crash of thunder that followed felt strange, like someone had remixed nature’s greatest hits with a demon’s playlist.

The Jeep’s electrical system went haywire. The radio cycled through stations at lightning speed, catching snippets of songs in languages I didn’t recognize, and my phone sparked and died with a sad little whimper.

“No, no, no!”

I fought with the steering wheel as the Jeep fishtailed wildly. “We do NOT have time for a dramatic crash scene!”

Time slowed.

Then the Jeep’s tires lost their battle.

The world tilted.

“Well, shit,” I managed, just before everything went sideways.

The Jeep spun like a carnival ride. I yanked the door handle, throwing myself clear as my faithful vehicle danced down the mountainside into a ravine.

The impact knocked the breath from my lungs, and I rolled through mud and what felt like every twig in a five-mile radius.

Pretty sure I’ll be picking splinters out of my ass for a week.

When I finally stopped moving, I lay there, staring up at the wicked storm. Lightning painted eldritch patterns across the clouds.

“Okay, Parker,” I wheezed, taking inventory. “Good news: not dead. Bad news...”

I turned my head to watch Old Reliable complete her final performance, crashing through trees below.

“... Definitely walking from here.”

That’s when I heard it. A sound that cut through the storm’s rage. Something between a growl and the mountain itself shifting in its sleep.

I forced myself to my feet, mud and rain cascading off my jacket.

“Just keep moving,” I told myself. “The outpost can’t be that far.”

Lightning struck again, hitting a gigantic pine tree just ahead. The crack was deafening, like the sky had split open. The ancient tree groaned and began to fall directly in my path.

“No…!” I scrambled backward, boots slipping in the mud. The pine crashed down with earth-shaking force, bringing several of its friends with it. My escape route vanished under tons of timber and angry nature.

The temperature plummeted. Ice crystallized on my jacket, biting into the fabric like tiny needles. My fingers went numb, barely able to clutch my coat. Each breath became a struggle as the cold seemed determined to freeze me in place.

Trapped. Helpless.

Lights flashed in the distance.

Golden beams of light cut through the darkness.

Something massive moved behind those lights. The air grew heavy, charged with more than lightning.

My vision blurred. The chill seeped into my bones.

The lights flickered, steady and insistent.

And then... everything went black.