My Boyfriend is a Bigfoot?

Chapter Seven

Darla gestured for me to repeat myself. I took another shot, and had better luck the second time around. "Ahem. What the fuck?! You know, the past week really had me convinced that I have a strong stomach for absolute batshit insanity, but now I'm not so sure. Thanks, by the way. I mean, I would like you to explain... uh... everything, but thank you, really. Did you beat her? What just happened?"

"Beat her? Not exactly. Stalled her, more like. She'll be back."

My eyes rolled back. I caught myself on the brink of fainting. "Oh, good. I was worried I was, uh, no longer in mortal peril. Good."

"So. How'd you piss her off? Jesus, Blair. Do I even wanna know?"

Bewilderment gave way to frustration, and I felt my body tense all over again. "Jesus *Blair?!* Jesus, BLAIR?! Jesus, Darla! I just found out you're a Harry Potter and you Jesus ME?!"

Her hands splayed out in the way typical of people bracing to deliver a tactless suggestion for one to 'calm down', lowering them slowly as though this physical gesture would literally squash down my agitation like it was an overflowing garbage can. "Hey, hey, now. All I'm saying is, getting a witch that pissed isn't something you do every Thursday, now is it?"

My stability lay scattered in shards about the floor of my cranium, and the task of sweeping them up and gluing them back together appeared so monumental in that moment that I balked and retreated before even beginning to try. Off-put by my other options, I resigned myself to confused sobs. "I don't know!" I sputtered through shaky breaths. "She told me not to go looking for the thing I heard in the forest and, and, I did anyway, and I found it... him... The bigfoot. And then she, she, well... I don't know! This is all so fucking... weird!"

Darla sighed and moved closer. She patted my shoulder, trying with little success to mask the fact she found the whole ordeal more than a little funny. "Oh, hun. Now, why'd you do that?"

I snorted and wiped my nose. "I had to know!"

I attempted to telekinetically will the tears back into my eyelids. "Ahem. I had to know what was out there. I didn't think she'd... come after me, or whatever. It's all just so insane. And... I found him... So now I have to know what she's hiding."

This struck Darla as magnificently stupid. Her brow knitted tight and her hand recoiled back to her side. "Do ya though?"

I sniffed with finality and wiped my eyes. "I have to. I'm meeting him again."

"The bigfoot?"

I was startled that she immediately accepted this insane premise as fact, which, as I pondered it further, shouldn't have been all that startling at all. "Yes, the bigfoot! Something's up, and I have to know what, but—" I caught myself. My hands went over my mouth. "It's not safe to talk."

She thumbed the pebble around in her hand. "Oh, I see. She's got eyes on you, huh?"

"She can read my thoughts."

She perched her chin on a pair of fingers, like I'd spurred some deep, pensive string of thought. "Hmm... doubt that. She can watch you, probably. Hear you, too, obviously. But I'm guessing she can only make educated guesses at your thoughts. Based on what she sees, yeah?"

"You really think so?"

She eyed the pebble. "Real tricky trick reading thoughts, especially from a distance. There's no chance she got her hands on any of your urine, is there?"

"Christ, I hope not. I mean, no." I swallowed. "Probably not."

"Great. So, you're probably good there. Just uh, the other thing."