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brAM

With Hades at my heels, I burst into Trevor’s house, adrenaline coursing through my body, charging my resolve to fix things. Clutching my gift from Mabel, I drop my keys in the bowl. Hades slips past me and heads for the living room.

Footsteps on the stairs draw my attention to Trevor. He descends the last few steps, then pauses at the bottom, holding on to the newel post. His expression is sympathetic and concerned and he lifts his hand toward me before dropping it to his side. “Hi.”

“I saw Mabel,” I blurt the words with way too much volume. “She gave me this.” I thrust out the black stone.

He gapes at me. “What?”

“In the woods. Needed a hike to clear my head, and ended up on one of the trails we used all the time as kids. She was exactly the same as the two times I saw her before. The atmosphere was the same too.”

“You mean with the forest getting eerily still and silent?”

“Yeah. She stood ten feet away from me. The greenest eyes, iridescent skin. I talked to her and she nodded at me. Like she understood what I was saying.” Excitement sparks over my skin. I’m breathless and have so much to do.

“Wow, that’s incredible.” Voice soft, he runs the pads of his fingers over the stone. Then he raises his gaze to hold mine. Sadness shimmers in his brown depths. “This morning, the mess with Agnes…”

“Sucked. All of it sucks. But we’re going to get a handle on it.

” I grab his hand and pull him toward the kitchen.

My laptop is on the table. I carefully set the stone beside it.

“Deleting the episode isn’t enough. People will have questions and want to know why, so I need to make a video explaining what’s going on. ”

“Do you need to contact your sponsors if you delete a video?”

“I reached out when I got in my car to drive back here. I told them I received new information proving the cryptid stories were faked, and I would be pulling the episode and making a new video ASAP. They’re sticking with me, for now.”

He peers over my shoulder as I boot up my computer.

“That’s good. Uh, before you delete the video, you should check the new comments.

I was watching the video again because I wanted to see the faces of the people who lied, and if they gave anything away while they were spinning their stories. And, well, you’ll see.”

The video is at the top of the content on my podcast channel. Since the video aired, over two thousand people have commented. I try to read everything, but sometimes, interacting and keeping up with each one is tough to do. I sort the comments to most recent.

MaybeInMaplewood: A tipsy tap dance teacher I met last night at The Striped Maple said he and others were asked to lie about seeing the winged cryptid by a woman who just so happens to be Bram’s aunt.

Was this dude drunk and delusional? Or was the smacked scarecrow cocktail a truth serum? Suspicious…

MonsterHunter99: Bram’s legit, so I doubt anything shady.

SweetTee: My hair stylist heard the same thing about the wolf-man being faked. Bram needs to address this.

“Oh, damn. Not good.” My stomach roils and a chill breaks out over my skin. I drop onto the chair, rubbing my hand over my jaw. My stubble scrapes against my palm and the roughness rouses me from thoughts of worst-case scenarios. “I need to delete it now, before even more people watch.”

“I was going to text you as soon as I saw the comments, but wasn’t sure if you still needed space, so…” He shuffles closer. “I thought about deleting them myself under my mod status, but didn’t want to do that until you’d seen them.”

“It’s okay.” An undercurrent of urgency swirling around me, I navigate to the video, delete it, then do the same with the audio version, my fingers shaking and nearly hitting the wrong keys.

“I need to hop on social media and do a live video, let people know why I took the video down. That will buy me a bit of time to put together another video with a longer explanation, and put together a statement.”

He leans his hand on the back of my chair, and his knuckles graze my shirt. “I need to get started on dismantling the haunted house. I’ll take Bandit.”

Damn it, I told him I’d help with that. “I can?—”

“Record the video. We need to fix that first.” His shaky smile matches my own.

I grab my phone, pick the social media app where I have the most followers, and tap the button to go live.

The screen shifts, and then my face takes up the screen.

Notifications pop up on the bottom of the feed with people joining the stream.

I set the phone on the table so it rests at a better angle and I can see Mabel’s stone beside it as I talk.

It also lets me see the crocheted version of her that Trevor and I propped up next to a plant on the kitchen windowsill.

“Hi, everyone. I’ll wait for another minute as more people are coming in, but I want to address the reason I deleted my most recent podcast episode.

The one about Cryptid Night held here in Maplewood, Vermont earlier this month.

The investigation and stories centered around reports of a slew of cryptids new to Maplewood. ”

More people join the stream, and comments about the episode and questions about what’s happening fly in one after the next.

The dogs bark a second before the doorbell rings. Trevor’s voice, quieting them, is followed by the sound of the door opening.

My heart’s pounding and the fluttering in my stomach expands to a tremble in my hands.

“Today, I learned those sightings were made up. I investigate and research under the belief that the stories and sightings people share with me are genuine. Clearly, that’s not the case with the Cryptid Night creatures. So I deleted the episode.”

The comments explode with people asking how I learned the stories were fake.

I blow out a breath. “I’ll record an episode with more details and a longer explanation, but didn’t want to wait on talking to you about what happened, or telling you why the episode was taken down. You know I don’t do fakes. I’d never waste my time or yours that way.”

Two sets of footsteps head toward the kitchen. Trevor comes in first, and whispers, “I’m sorry.”

He points over his shoulder. Agnes is behind him, wearing all black and the most contrite expression I’ve ever seen on her.

She skirts past Trevor and meets me with her hands clasped in front of her. “I clean up my messes, and want to make things right. ”

Frustration at her, and at the situation she caused, flashes hot and bright. “I’m in the middle of a video about that mess right now.”

“Trevor said that when he answered the door. I’ll help.” She pulls out a chair and sits beside me, then waves at our images on the screen. “Hello, everyone. I’m Bram’s aunt, Agnes Peabody.”

A fresh wave of stress crashes over me. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Agnes, this isn’t…”

“The new cryptids in Maplewood were my invention. I concocted the whole plan as a way to get my nephew to Maplewood, so he and his best friend would spend time together and realize they were in love.”

“Agnes…” The warning in my voice doesn’t faze her. I’ve lost control of the situation. Short of grabbing my phone and ending the feed, what can I do? Asking her to leave while we’re on camera would be rude.

Her gaze scans the comments popping up. “Yes, MonsterHunter99, they were entirely my creation. I got the idea because my friend who is a real estate agent dressed as a Yeti in promotional photos for a remote cabin he’d listed.”

I gape at her. “Seriously?”

She shrugs. “It worked for him. The place sold.”

“Wow.” Just… wow. She’s unbelievable.

In the corner of my vision, Trevor leaves the room with Bandit trailing behind him.

Agnes’s attention returns to the screen. “Hello, MaybeInMaplewood, I guess you could say I was playing Maplewood Matchmaker. And I convinced my friends to go along with my scheme. We kept Bram and Trevor in the dark about everything.”

A new comment that pops up catches my attention.

OhTheHorror: Agnes creating an epic ruse to bring two people together makes me wish I had an Aunt Agnes in my life. Agnes, adopt me!

I shake my head at that one. But it makes me smile too.

Agnes presses her hand over her heart. “I realize now that the way I went about things wasn’t ideal. I’m sorry if my actions, and those of my friends, have resulted in casting any doubts about Bram’s integrity.”

Most of the new comments rolling in now are from people telling Agnes they understand.

SasquatchWatch: I always thought you were legit, Bram. Glad to see that’s true. Thanks for addressing the speculation, and for the classy way you handled this. I hope people realize the extent of the damage hoaxes can cause.

A lot of these people have been with me from the beginning.

Knowing they believe me helps so much. Some of my stress withers away as hope flutters in my chest. “Thanks for the support, everyone. The only thing I can do is what I’ve been doing, which is talking to people, hearing their stories, doing as much research as possible, and debunking sightings when other explanations are more likely.

Relationships and interactions are built on trust. I appreciate the trust you’ve placed in me. ”

There will still be people who learn about the hoax and think I was in on it and that I’m only making this now because we somehow got caught. Squeezing the stone Mabel gave me, I try to push that worry away. I can’t do anything about those people. Hopefully, enough will believe me.

Agnes turns to me. “I really am sorry. I regret the method I chose to get you here, but not the result of you and Trevor.”

I accept that with a nod.

My attention falls to the continued stream of comments.

MonsterHunter99: You and Trevor look cute together in the investigation photos, and the one from the Halloween pet parade .

I’m happy now that I’ve shared so many photos of my time here. “Thanks, Monster Hunter. Trevor’s a great guy.”