For the second time that evening, I’m not fast enough. I reach the bridge just in time to realize the completion of my failure.

  The first snap is deafening. Steel cables recoil like striking vipers, whipping through the air. Below, concrete groans as the weight of the world is too much for it to bear.

  I land on the structure, digging my claws in, lifting with my wings, knowing already that’s it too little, too late, but unable to do nothing.

  People were screaming, cars struck. The entire bridge shuddered.

  There was still time to save people. I abandoned the structure for the nearest car. The woman inside, white-knuckled, eyes wide, screamed at me. I ripped her car door, grabbed her, and dropped her by the riverbank.

  I went back to the bridge and did it again.

  Then again.

  Too slow, Mothman! I heard. Despite the bridge groaning, people screaming, car horns and sirens blaring, I could hear his laughter above it all because I knew he was right.

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  I wasn’t fast enough. Not nearly, and the bridge collapsed beneath me.

  No, I said, watching it fall into the waters. There was still time. I dove into the wreckage, pulled as many as I could from the freezing waters. Some were alive. Some weren’t, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow, I could have stopped this.

  By the time I crawled onto the shore, my wings dragged behind me – soaked, broken, and heavy with failure.

  Johnathan Black met me later.

  “It’s like you said, they’re wanting to blame this on Cold. That happens, people’s fear of the grinning man is going to make him powerful beyond belief,” Black warned.

  I nodded. I knew. He’d planned this.

  “Blame me,” I said.

  My voice, raw, torn from my throat.

  “What?” he gasped, unbelieving.

  I grabbed his collar and pulled him close. I needed him to understand.

  “You tell them it was me. Tell them I did it. You make me a harbinger of doom, death, whatever you need. Run me through the muck and mud, and don’t you dare mention a word of Indrid Cold. Make them forget.”

  Black nodded and hurried down the fire escape. I took to the air and disappeared into the shadows.

  “They’ll hate you for this!” he yelled, shutting the door to his car and driving away.

  Let them. I can handle it. In the meantime, I’ll stay busy.

  Waiting.

  Watching.

  Protecting.

  Love me or hate me, I’m here for the people of West Virginia. Their cyptid protector, watching them from the night shadows. I can’t help but be drawn to them, like a moth to flame.

  [END]