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Another dark, dank, abandoned building that’s far too big and open to feel this claustrophobic. Great. You can see your breath in the chilly night air, even inside the building, and you shiver without really thinking about it.
“Here,” Robert says from behind you. You feel a weight press onto your shoulders and all of a sudden you’re much warmer. The thick leather of Robert’s jacket feels like a safe, warm hug and you pull it tighter around you so as not to lose that feeling. It smells distinctly of whiskey, but that’s as to be expected.
“So what are we looking for again?” you ask, eyes darting around the location. It looks like an old warehouse—but then again, most abandoned, massive buildings look like warehouses when they’re completely emptied out. A few of the windows are letting moonlight stream in, filling most of the empty space with a pale, relieving light.
“Dover Ghost,” he says plainly. Of course it is. Robert clicks on the flashlight he brought and suddenly you feel extremely underprepared for this event. It’s not like you’d been warned this was where you were going to spend your night. No, you just received a text saying ‘come outside before I break in through your window’ and now here you are.
The light from Robert’s flashlight washes over the room, scanning for anything out of the ordinary. Then it clicks off and you wonder if the moonlight had always been that dim. You pull Robert’s jacket tighter around you and take another deep, foggy breath. “So why is the Dover Ghost hanging out in this building? I thought it was a forest creature or something.”
Robert drops his bag onto the ground, crouching to dig through it. “Cryptids wander. They hang out wherever they want. It’s not like they’re afraid of anyone trying to stop them.” He finally pulls out a small video camera. An old one, judging by how clunky it seems.
“Oh great, we’re hunting a fearless creature that does whatever it wants.” You shoot Robert a glance that you hope shows off your disdain for this activity.
“Yeah,” Robert says, answering your sarcasm with a biting grin. It almost doesn’t fit his grizzled face. “And we’re gonna catch it, too.”
As it turns out, ‘catching a cryptid’ mostly involves sitting around in the dark for a long while, and occasionally being shushed by Robert, who thinks he’s heard something. You’re starting to think that maybe it’s not as bad as you originally thought it would be.
You rest your chin in your hand, eyes half-lidded, seeing as it’s far past your usual bedtime. Through a bleary gaze, you see Robert smirk, accompanied by a scoff. He opens his mouth to say something—probably teasing—when a loud thump! makes you both jump.
“What the h—“ Of course, Robert shushes you, his head already turned toward the noise and eyes narrowed in suspicion. His knees are pulled up to his chest and he’s balanced on his heels, as if he’s ready to spring to life at any moment. You notice that he looks a bit like a cat, which you would have thought was quite cute, if your brain wasn’t already going haywire thinking about your imminent death at the hands of the Dover Ghost.
Robert stands, holding a hand out toward you to silently tell you to stay put. He walks forward slowly, the soft clack of his boots syncing with the pulse you can feel in your throat. The hand not held out toward you holds his camera, faithfully filming the empty room in front of the both of you.
A massive ceiling panel crashes to the ground, shattering and shooting splinters all over the floor. You shield your eyes to protect from the sharp pieces before hearing the heavy sound of something dropping down near you. Oh god.
Your eyes finally open, though it takes some effort to convince them to, and stare at the massive, red-eyed beast in front of you. No doubt in your mind that this is the famed Dover Ghost that Robert has been telling you stories about all night and now Robert is the only thing standing between you and it.
Robert reflexively reaches for his knife, but his hand falls short when it finds that the pocket he keeps his knife in is no longer there. The jacket around your shoulders feels like a thousand pound weight all of a sudden, specifically the inner pocket holding none other than Robert’s prized knife.
There’s a moment of contemplation between the three of you. It feels like an eternity, as these moments tend to do, but it only lasts long enough for you to take a shaky breath.
All at once, you scramble to your feet, Robert slides over to his bag on his knees, and the Dover Ghost lets out a strangled growl and bristles, looking at least twice as big as before. With Robert now behind you, and appearing much shorter now on his knees, the cryptid’s eyes turn to you as the new threat.
The only thing you have to go off of is the few cautionary tips an old forest ranger gave you that one time you and Amanda went camping. Of course, that was about bears, but what’s a cryptid, if not a terrifying, haunted bear-thing? You try not to think about that faulty logic too much as you try to make yourself look bigger and pump yourself up. “Get outta here!” you shout, voice wavering despite yourself. “Go on! Get out!”
The beast doesn’t appear to know English and, instead, lunges toward you. The arms that you’d previously raised above your head, now went to guard your face from the gaping maw of the creature. You hear the strangled cry again, louder, closer, even more distraught than before.
And then again, but this time short, choked off by something. You pull your arms down a bit, just enough to give you a view to see what the hell happened. On top of the Dover Ghost, a massive, snarling wolf stands, snout pressed against its opponents face and paws holding down its form.
Where the hell did that come from? You watch as the wolf is thrown off of the Ghost, slamming into the concrete floor with a pathetic howl of pain. But it pulls itself back up, charging back into the fray, jaw wide open to show off its giant, knife-like teeth. Even in the moonlight, you can see the dark brown fur dusted over with gray. It’s far too familiar for you to brush that aside.
The two creatures’ cries mold together into a cacophony, giving you a migraine for the ages. You stand there dumbly, watching these two massive beasts fight each other, throwing each other around the open floor of the building.
You spare a glance behind you, sure that Robert has to be just as dumbfounded as you are, only to find that he’s nowhere to be seen. His bag is toppled over without care, camera and flashlight both strewn across the ground like they were dropped in haste. A million questions rush through your mind and, as if some celestial being is granting you the answers, the wolf once again slides into your view and looks up at you from the ground with a familiar, stony gaze.
As if aforementioned celestial being didn’t trust your judgment, the wolf shrinks and transforms back into Robert. You stare at him, jaw on the floor, mind reeling. “Okay,” he says, looking particularly guilty, “so plot twist: I’m a werewolf.”
Through your absolute shock, all you can muster is a sighed, “Yeah, I guess you are.”
The cry of the Dover Ghost pulls your attention back to the beast ambling to its feet. Robert looks at you, as if silently asking if you’re okay enough for him to leave you. He begins getting up, but doesn’t take his eyes off of you.
You figure you might as well accept your fate, seeing as two supernatural beings are in your presence. “You want me to record it?” you ask, motioning to the camera that had been abandoned on the ground.
Robert looks almost giddy, shooting you a grin that looks much sharper than you would have previously thought. He gives you a thumbs up before rushing back at the Dover Ghost, turning back into a wolf mid-run. You scramble to pick up the camera and angle it properly, thankful that it was still recording and you wouldn’t have to fiddle with any buttons.
The battle itself was impressive, to say the least. Now knowing that the wolf was Robert and was, in fact, trying to protect you, you find the whole thing less terrifying and more amazing. Robert clawed and bit and let out fearsome growls. And you cheer him on, trying you best not to totally ruin the footage with your exclamations.
Eventually, the Dover Ghost retreats, mangled and bloodied, its cry more strangled than before. Though Robert took a bit of a beating himself, the other guy looked much worse, and you can say that you’re quite proud.
You shut off the camera before Robert transforms back, and throw your hands up in excitement. Robert gives you a tired smile in response. “We didn’t catch him, but I think you got some pretty good proof that the Dover Ghost exists,” you say, holding out the camera to him.
“I guess that’s good enough for tonight,” he responds, taking the camera from you. “I should probably get you home.”
Robert gathers up his bag, tucking everything safely inside, and slings it over his shoulder. Then he grabs your arm, which is still donned in his thick leather jacket, and pulls you toward the exit.
“So you’re a werewolf?” you finally ask as you settle into Robert’s truck.
“Yup,” he answers plainly. Then, “Well, more of a lycan, but most people don’t know what that is, so I just say werewolf. But I can turn whenever I want, so it’s different. Kind of.” He shoots you a glance, probably to gauge your understanding.
It sort of goes in one ear and out the other, but you get the gist. “Cool,” you manage. A yawn escapes you and you nestle comfortably into the seat. You really should convince Robert to go on a date when the sun is up one of these days.
“Don’t worry about it for now,” he tells you.
You nod before falling asleep to the gentle curves of the road and the soft moonlight on your face.