A thick man with a beard lunged towards us brandishing his dagger. At the same time, Jack lurched forward violently expelling the contents of his stomach. Maron and I were too stunned to react. I hadn’t been keeping tabs on how much Jack had drunk that night, but an absurd amount of liquid was pouring from his mouth. As the vomit landed, it froze on the floor between us and the cultists. I was thankful not to be a sympathetic puker.

  When the bearded man’s feet came in contact with the ice, he fell onto his back, hard, and his dagger slid away from him. Several more cultists tried to get closer, but a slick ice-skating rink divided us, and they quickly found themselves on their butts.

  I knew it was a serious situation and that lives were in danger, but one of my guilty pleasures was watching videos of people sliding around on ice while trying to walk. As soon as one of the cultists' legs kicked out in front of them repeatedly like they were attempting a can-can, I completely lost it. The situation was too absurd. I grabbed Maron’s arm to keep from barreling over. Maron did his best to keep his cool, but eventually, he gave in and laughed along with me.

  “Haaaaaiiillleeeey,” Jack said after another round of puke. He shakily rose up. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He had a hurt expression on his face.

  With the ice dividing us, the cultists decided we wouldn’t be interfering with the ritual. Many surrounded the shop owner, making it nearly impossible to see what was happening. They were chanting louder and louder. A few of the cultists remained holding their daggers and eyeing us, ready to strike.

  “Advent Anura!”

  “Advent Anura!”

  Maron leaned down to speak into my ear so I could hear him over the chanting.“I booked a room on the other side of town.” Then he added, “There’s a pool.”

  I weighed my options. Although I wasn’t an altruistic hero insistent on saving the day from dangerous cultists, I wasn’t sure what else was involved in solving the cult case which my freedom was contingent on. With that said, there was no reason for us not to leave and call the police to handle the lunatics. I could always work on getting answers when the scene was safe.

  “Behold!” the shopkeeper yelled, “I am cleansed!” Then he gurgled and emitted bizarre grunting noises.

  The cutlists wiggled around making their own noises. I had once watched a documentary about mega-churches and their proselytization. Priests making a big show of forcing demons out of people and them getting so caught up in it they’d flop around like a fish out of water. It wasn’t a far stretch from the ritual in front of us, and I considered both examples to be cult behavior. The cultists were actually tamer than what I had seen of the mega-churches, even with mind-altering lead and mercury poisoning. Of all the absurdities, I had to wonder: why did they pick a frog demon to worship?

  I was about to tell Maron we should take his suggestion and leave the cultists to their ridiculous demonstration, when something happened. I couldn’t make out the details of what was going on, but the cultists were spreading out, backing away from the center of the circle. In between two of them I glimpsed the writhing silhouette of where the shopkeeper was standing. He wasn’t a large man, shorter than average, a bit portly. Bent over with his back to us, I couldn’t make out much, but when he would jerk from one side to another, I had the distinct impression he was growing. It was gradual at first, his legs were getting longer and wider until his pants began to split at the seams. His shirt buttons popped and then the entire side tore off to expose green, slimy bumps.

  He was transforming before our eyes. Jack and Maron had similar shocked expressions.

  At first his clothes fell way, and then he grabbed his face and chest, ripping violently. His skin sloughed off to reveal horn-like ridges above bulbous eyes and a wide, gaping mouth. He used his new long legs to leap out of the flesh that remained, leaving a puddle of pieces that once made up the shopkeeper. A thick, slick goo splattered over everyone around the creature as he did this, and his landing was so heavy, he cracked the tile floor.

  In a sitting position, he was almost as tall as the standing cultists. For a moment, no one spoke or moved. We watched the monstrous frog while it watched us. Then one of the cultists began to clap his hands and others joined. The frog’s eyes locked onto the movement. A long tongue flew out of the frog’s mouth, catching the man around both arms. The man opened his mouth in shock, but it was too late. The tongue shot back into the frog’s mouth and in an instant the man was sucked inside. His legs kicked and wiggled, but with a snap of the frog’s mouth, there was an audible crunch and he stopped moving.

  The bulging eyes opened and shut several times, which I recalled from a nature documentary on the bullfrog was how they swallow. (I watched a lot of documentaries). In an instant, the man was gone. The cultists erupted in terror. One tried to rush to the side door, but the frog’s tongue was too quick and she was sucked into the monster’s belly.

  The ice was starting to melt on the floor, so some of the cultists chanced rushing our direction. Some brought the daggers to their own throats, as a sacrifice to the frog. All I could think about was the young woman who came looking for her sister the previous day and how much I had wanted to help her. These people were scared and confused. They were taken advantage of while they were struggling with addiction, and it disgusted me.

  “Maron, frogs follow movement, get them to slow down,” I said.

  Maron nodded. He placed his flute to his lips and breathed out a simple lullaby. It lilted through the room awkwardly against the chaos unfolding before us. The gentle notes caressed my ears, but I knew better than to be lulled by them. Slowly but surely, a cultist would stop and listen to the music. They were dropping knives and swaying in a trance. He was using a faerie ability akin to that of the pied piper. Perhaps it worked so quickly because they were more susceptible, but soon only a few cultists were still moving — one was being eaten at the time so I couldn’t fault him for that.

  “Jack, I need you to freeze the frog,” I said.

  “I don’t know if I can do that, I’m really drunk,” Jack said with a hiccup.

  “Do the best you can then,” I said.

  “I have to get closer to it, but it’s really gross and I don’t want to,” Jack whispered.

  I took Jack’s hand. If we were going to have any chance to stop the thing, it was while the monster was distracted. It couldn’t eat one of us while its mouth was full. Still, I was not thrilled about stepping over the limbs of dismembered cultists. We didn’t move quickly, instead we inched through the carnage left by the creature.

  It had finished its meal, and its eyes began to search around for another. The cultists were standing still with their eyes half-closed listening to the tune. When the frog looked to the far side of the room, we took a step forward. I saw its eye turn towards us, and we stopped. As we closed in on it, I could now smell the putrid odor it was emitting. It was a mix of rancid meat and this earthy bog stench I had only encountered once in a swampy area deep in a forest I never wished to return to.

  I held my breath, and gripped Jack tightly. We were going to have to chance rushing it. I took a quick step and pulled Jack along with me. The frog turned and opened his mouth to fling his tongue out, but we were too quick. Jack let out a scream and planted both of his hands on the monster’s face. Frost formed around the edges of the beast. The frogs' distended eyes blinked and then closed.

  “Is he..?” I asked.

  “Sleeping,” Jack said, “I told you, I didn’t think I could freeze him all the way.”

  “That’s right, frogs fall asleep when they’re cold.” I remembered. “They hibernate in the winter.”

  “OK, herpetologist, what do we do now?” Jack asked.

  I looked at Jack and then to Maron. Maron was still playing to keep the cultists at bay but did his best to mime a hitting motion.

  “I have to keep my hands on it, or it’ll wake up,” Jack said while turning his head away from the frog’s stinking breath.

  That left it to me. Although I had been around plenty of corpses, I’d always had a ‘live and let live’ ideology. I caught bugs and put them back outside and generally avoided having to hurt anything. Don’t get me wrong, I was a consumer of meat and products that I understood did damage to living things, I just hadn’t been the one doing the murdering myself. Unfortunately, this time, I had no choice. If I didn’t put an end to this frog monstrosity, it would go on a devouring rampage.

  “I purposely skipped frog dissection day in science class,” I said.

  “Not a very good herpetologist then.” Jack said and his arms were starting to shake. “Would you please slay the beast? Preferably before it eats us or I throw up again.”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  I picked up one of the ceremonial daggers on the ground next to me. It had more weight than I expected, but the handle fit well enough into my grasp. I wasn’t entirely sure of the best angle for stabbing a frog monster, but I assumed the head would be a safe bet. I lifted the dagger, closed my eyes, and shoved it down as hard and as fast as I could. When I felt the tension against the blade, I realized the top of the monster’s head was hard, like a turtle. My attempt had not even woken it up, so I turned the blade and drove it deep underneath, into its neck. Blue blood sprayed out into my face, causing me to turn away. The creature spasmed, almost making me drop the dagger.

  “Again, Hailey, again!” Jack yelled.

  The monster was opening its mouth to try to suck us in. I shoved the blade in again, and its webbed hand grasped Jack’s shoulder digging its fingers in. I felt pain in my own shoulder and slashed the frog’s arm so Jack could break free. Its slick tongue protruded from its mouth, wrapping around Jack’s torso. Jack gasped and struggled against the strength of the tongue that was pulling him in.

  I had to do something quick or Jack would be dragged into the monster’s mouth and crushed by its powerful jaw. I rushed at its face again, this time stabbing through its eye. There was a terrible squelching noise from the cut and the creature roared. Blue juices squirted from the wound again, covering Jack and me in putrid liquids, but I kept at it. It flailed its arms and kicked to no avail. I stabbed over and over again, until its tongue loosened, dropping Jack to the floor. Finally, the monster flopped onto its stomach limp and still.

  Even though I left the dagger wedged in its face, I still felt the weight of it in my empty hand. Exhausted and disgusted, I lay down on my back beside Jack on the tile floor.

  “Well, that was the grossest thing I’ve ever had to do,” I said knowing I was likely in shock.

  “Makes my Top 10,” Jack said, still out of breath from being squeezed by the tongue.

  Maron’s flute music had stopped. I could hear the cultists coming to and pushing past one another to get outside. Maron carefully stepped around as much of the frog mess as he could. Although his glamour made him appear to be wearing black dress shoes, I knew there was nothing between his hooves and the floor.

  He peered down at Jack and me. “This your idea of a fun Saturday night?” he asked sarcastically. “Not the kind of party I was hoping for. I’ll get the instruments upstairs, if you two want to clean yourselves up?”

  I sat up and surveyed the scene. Globs of frog guts and pieces of cutlists littered the floor along with the candles and cult paraphernalia. It was going to take a long time to clean the mess up, but I decided that was a future Hailey problem.

  “You can have the shower first,” Jack said. “You should leave your clothes here.” Then he put his hand over his eyes while spreading his fingers. “I promise I won’t peek.”

  “There goes my favorite shirt.” I joked while unceremoniously ripping my pirate shirt off and throwing it to the floor with a splat. I removed my pants and shoes and found a napkin on a nearby table to wipe some of the gunk off my face. Then gagged while untangling a chunk of slime from my hair.

  Maron busied himself with blowing out candles and gathering our belongings. Once in my blood-stained underlayers, I headed to the door carrying my shoes. The wooden steps felt cool under my bare feet. I found our apartment door unlocked, which under any normal circumstances, would have made me suspicious, but I was too tired and eager for a shower to care.

  After a thorough cleaning, I changed into pajamas and found Jack waiting outside the door to switch places. Maron came in soon after and turned around, eyeing the room.

  “Reminds me a bit of our old place,” he said with a whimsically. .

  Feelings started to bubble up again. Ones I did not want to deal with while exhausted and a little drunk. I was especially emotionally raw after having to stab a frog monster to death. “Look, I’m not really up for any of this. I told you, I don’t need your sympathy or whatever is going on here.”

  “You don’t? You’ve got everything under control, huh?” Maron said, “What about anything that has happened makes you think you’re safe here?”

  “I don’t think I’m safe, but it’s not your concern,” I said while adjusting the towel I had wrapped around my wet hair and trying not to look at him.

  “You always do this! You don’t need to do everything by yourself. Why won’t you let me help you?” Maron asked and touched the back of my hand with his.

  He knew me too well. We had dated for almost four years, but it felt longer. I ripped my hand away. “You can’t just waltz back into my life after what you did.”

  “Well, I’m sorry I still care about you. A lot. I don’t want you to get gobbled up by a giant…what the hell was that thing? I’ve been around a long time, and that was crazy.”

  “Uck, it’s not just that.” I had to tell him the truth, the real reason I couldn’t have him around. The flimsy mental dam I had placed to protect both of us burst apart. The words flew out of me, louder than I meant. “I can’t think straight when you’re here!”

  “What do you mean?” He asked quietly.

  “When you’re around, everything’s muddled. You just have that effect on me, maybe all humans. It’s always been that way. But, right now, I need my head to be clear or I won’t be able to solve this and get rid of the damn ring.” I could feel the tears welling up in my eyelids, but I was able to force them back.

  “Hailey, I’d never use magic on you like that, you know that?” Maron said.

  “I don’t think you do it on purpose, but right now…” I took a deep breath to prepare myself. “I need you to leave.”

  Maron looked away while biting his lip. Even in the dim light of the apartment I could see his soft lips and handsome jawline. I longed to rest my head on his muscular chest and fall asleep in his embrace.

  “Fine.” he said, “But, after this is over, can we get together and talk about everything? Just the two of us?”

  I nodded and stopped myself from admitting how much I wanted that.

  Maron wrapped his arms around me. His hug was like returning home to a hearty stew after a long day of working outside. Even after everything we had been through that day, he still smelled amazing. I breathed in his scent of apple, cloves, and cinnamon, recalling our best times together. When he stepped away, it felt like a part of me was torn off to go with him.

  He blinked away a tear. “Oh, I found this with the cult crap down there, thought maybe it could help with the cas” he said and then added, “And if you need me...” He placed a miniature, green ocarina on a folded piece of paper on the table.

  “Goodbye, Maron,” I said and willed myself to stand still as he made his way to the door.

  “Take care of yourself, Hailey. And whatever you do, don’t trust Jack Frost,” Maron said and then shut the door behind himself.

  Jack took this moment to step out of the bathroom wearing grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt. At first I thought his hair had been styled into points with some sort of gel, but then I realized the water from the shower had frozen that way. I assumed he had heard everything. I walked into the bedroom and collapsed, face first, onto the bed without saying a word to him. Quietly, Jack crept onto the other side of the bed and sat down.

  “So…do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

  “You wouldn’t understand.” My voice was muffled from talking into a pillow.

  Jack inhaled loudly. “You’re upset because you still have feelings for your ex who was spying on you for the Queen to capture your dad for stealing from her. Now you know he has feelings for you too, and you’re struggling with that because it seems disloyal to your family to forgive him. And, you’re stuck working for the Queen because of him. On top of all that, you feel a bit guilty for blaming Maron for doing his duty to the Queen when he doesn’t really have any other choice, but that also means you could never fully trust him.” He then asked, “Sound about right?”

  I couldn’t contain it anymore. I leaned onto Jack and sobbed into his shirt. I felt him tense at first, but then he let his hand rest on my back. I continued to ugly cry for several minutes until snot and tears were soaking through his t-shirt, but Jack remained still.

  “Sorry,” I muttered into his chest.

  “I’ve had worse things on me tonight,” he joked, and handed me a tissue from the nearby nightstand. “What was it your dad stole from the Queen, anyway?”

  “I don’t know.” My voice was becoming hoarse. I wiped my face and moved away from Jack to the far side of the bed.

  He laughed and bent one of his knobby knees to point toward the ceiling. “That figures.”

  “Hey Jack,” I said, “I order you not to tell anyone about any of this.”

  “The stuff about Maron and your dad or the crying?” he asked.

  “Both, but especially the crying.”

  “My lips are sealed.” He said making a motion with his hand as if he locked his mouth with an invisible key.

  A wave of exhaustion soon fell over me. Every inch of my body was tired from the lack of sleep, working a full day, getting vicariously stabbed, partying at a bar and then stabbing a frog monstrosity until it died. Tomorrow was not going to be a good morning, and there was still the mess in the beignet shop. I hoped Maron thought to lock the front door when he left.

  Unfortunately, no matter how tired I was, my mind would not stop repeating horrifying images of the frog’s gorey demise at my hands or the pained expression on Maron’s face when I told him to leave. My heart was racing when I wanted nothing more than to rest.

  “You can have the bed, I gotta go watch something and try not to think,” I grumbled.

  “Can’t sleep?” Jack asked.

  “I wish I could just turn my mind off for a bit,” I said.

  “Your wish is my command,” He leaned over me.

  Before I had time to react, I felt his cold lips press into my forehead. In an instant, I was elsewhere.

  Music echoed through the narrow room of my favorite bar in Boston. I was shoved into a cramped corner with a dozen musicians in an Irish jam. All the regulars launching into a tune and my dad beside me egging me on to a race. We dueled one another with our button boxes while the regulars watched in awe and the musicians cheered. My mother sat at the end of the bar, looking on with pride. Everything felt right with the world, so I knew I must have been dreaming.