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“Uhm, not really…” I felt like a fool. “I mean, I think I saw it in the Kee journal somewhere, but it was all gibberish to me. I’ll have to study it closely, try to work out the odd characters so that I don’t paint something wrong on a talisman.” I looked at the pile of books stacked on top of the dresser, sitting mixed in with the library books was the Kee journal. Kind of like a famous credit card, I never left home without it. Man, I really needed to stop falling down the dark rabbit hole of old TV commercials on YouTube when I couldn’t sleep. Right. Studying. Studying. Studying. So much studying. My brain was going to melt out of my ears.

“Great, more studying. Maybe Kee Huang can help us with our papers for Asian studies class?”

“He could, sure, but he wouldn’t. Yeye says something about the master leading you to the door, but the rest is up to you. So like even if I asked he’d just look at me like I was a slacker then tell me to go study harder.”

“Man, learning is hard work.” Phil rubbed the paint on his finger to his towel. “I’m cold.” He rose from the bed to get dressed, dropping the towel to the floor. I eyed his firm ass with appreciation for the divine sight it was. When he bent over to dig through his bag for clothes, I got an even better view. His ass cheeks spread just slightly, teasing me with a quick peek at his hole and dangling balls. How the hell could my dick be so interested in sex when my head was all over the place? Cocks had their own nervous system and brains, it seemed. Phil tugging some briefs up over that fine backside snapped me out of my lusty gaze. “Want to check out the video from the camp?”

“Sure, yeah, we should for sure.” I tucked the paintbrush into the empty brown bag and set it on the bed. How the hell was I supposed to transport a drippy brush around? Seemed my exalted ancestor would have left operating instructions with his gift. When I rejoined Phil, he was sitting on the bed, crossed-legged, with his phone ready for playback. He’d gotten a new app that allowed us to review our content on his phone. Generally, we ran live so reviewing stuff was kind of out the window, but it would come in handy if we ever wanted to record something ahead of time, like promo or life-and-death situations with a cryptid. I crawled over to him, so we were shoulder to shoulder. He looked my way. “I’m ready. Let’s see what we have to send to…the senator.”

Phil’s lips flattened. He hit play. Side-by-side, we waited a moment and then sat there and watched several long hours of content that made us both cringe. The video wasn’t great at times. Shaky as hell, or too far away as in the last conflict at the fire ring, but the imagery was terrifying for sure. When we reached the end, I stared down at the black screen for a long moment, trying to sort out what we’d just gone through and how the senator would take that bit of news.

“Guess we should send this to the senator,” I finally whispered. Phil left the bed to yank a sweatshirt over his head. “You cold?”

“I think I’m going to go for a run. I feel edgy.”

I glanced at the stitches in his arm before they were covered with a sleeve. “Should you be running with stitches?”

“I’m not using my arms to run, babe,” he replied while sliding his feet into his sneakers.

“Yeah, okay, I know that. Just be careful.”

“Always.” He paused at the door, his shoulders heaving before he glanced over his shoulder at me holding the phone. “I’m not ready to hear him right now. I’m sorry for being such a fucking coward, but we’ve been through too much and…” His chest expanded then deflated, the breath rushing out of him. “Just…I need to decompress.”

“Go run. I can handle the senator. And you’re not a coward. You just faced down a fucking cryptid who wanted to eat your ass as badly as I do.”

That made a wobbly smile tug at his lips. “Go. Run. I’ll handle the senator.”

“I love you.”

“I know. Now go get sweaty.” He nodded and eased out of the door, closing it with a click. The poor guy. Honestly, what kind of family wanted to see their child suffer so damn much? It pissed me off so badly that I was on Phil’s phone and hitting up the senator’s private number before I could talk myself out of it. Guess Kee Huang was right. Youth did want to fight at the drop of a hat. Sue. Me. I’d go out and try not to wake the grass later.

The senator picked up before the third ring.

“Mr. Kee, I assume you’re calling with some news for me about the project?” His tone was cold professionalism. No sound in the background to indicate where he was or what he was doing. Probably closing down an orphanage so he could raze it to build a spa for the rich and fabulous.

“I have some film to send to you about what we encountered at Camp Minnow Mingle. It’s not a pretty sight. Phil got clawed up.”

“Send it to me now at the email address you were given when you signed onto the project. I’m impressed you completed the task so quickly. I’ve just transferred your fee to a secure bank account under the name agreed upon in advance due to my son being involved in this transaction. I know where to find him if you do not deliver. Now, the film, please.”

His coldness shocked me. I mean, it probably shouldn’t have, but it did just the same. Did he not hear me say his only child was harmed during this outing? Did he care so little for Phil just because he hadn’t danced to the tune this asshole had wanted him to? What a fucking turd.

Gritting my teeth, I nonetheless mailed off the bits of film. They were rough, ugly, and unedited, but to hell with spending time polishing shit up. He could show this to his workers to convince them it was safe to return and—

“What is this, Mr. Kee?” he snapped into my ear, jarring me from my mental hate rant.

“Video of the cryptid that was roaming that campground,” I replied with some confusion. Had I not sent the right files? I checked. No, I’d sent the correct ones.

“A cryptid. Seriously, Mr. Kee, do you take me for a fool?” he asked with bite.

“No, I told you we went there and ran into a legendary monster that—”

“Monsters. Mr. Kee, this is utter trash and idiocy. Did you clear the camp of the supposed ghosts?”

“I told you it was a cryptid and not a ghost. You have video evidence.” Was the man fucking blind?

“What I have are several grainy files of you and Philip wrestling with a mangy bear or a man in a cheap costume. What I paid you a large amount of money for is video of you walking through the camp with a smudge pot or a bundle of smoking leaves or whatever it is you people do to eradicate ghosts so simple-minded fools will see an exorcism of sorts and return to work.”

“You people,” I whispered to myself. Wow. Just…wow. I wanted to yell at this ass, but would it do any good? No. He was too deep into his hate to listen to anyone who wasn’t a cookie-cutter of him. “Your son took a pretty bad hit from the cryptid that required stitches. The very least you could do is—”