The Bridge

by Rachel Lou

  “What?” Everett laughed.

  Good thing Buzz wasn’t here to see Everett freak out. In a short-lived afterthought, Everett imagined it would have been amusing to see Buzz’s reaction.

  Everett pinched his arm. This was real. Unbelievably real.

  “I was thinking we could go on a date and see what happens afterward. Unless you think differently. It’s cool if you do. I’m just wondering.”

  Everett sputtered a laugh.

  “Is that a no?” Bryce’s voice faded.

  Everett could sense the line about to disconnect.

  “No, I—”

  The call ended.

  How about after tomorrow? Or we could go tomorrow after the lesson, though we’d be covered in sweat.

  Everett had never texted so fast. Autocorrect had to step in for most of the words. His thumbs kept striking the wrong letters.

  This isn’t a pity date??

  No! You just surprised me. I didn’t mean to laugh.

  REALLY? You’d REALLY go out with me???!!!

  Everett called Bryce again. He couldn’t control his thumbs when he opened his contact list and almost couldn’t select Bryce’s name from his favorites list of two contacts.

  “Will you really go out with me?” Bryce said, a little breathless.

  “Yes!”

  “That’s great. I—oh wow. This isn’t too fast or anything, right?”

  “I’ve never done anything related to dating so I’m not the person to ask.” Everett curled his hair around his finger until he was at his scalp. He could tear it out and the pain wouldn’t register.

  “I’m in shock. You said ‘yes’ and you sound happy about it.”

  “Why wouldn’t I? Anyone would be happy to go out with you.” Everett fretted over that cheesy line for less than a second.

  Romance hadn’t been on his mind until he met Bryce, and that was because few had seen him in a different light than friendship. Throughout high school, he had seen the blushing looks of a few girls—never boys—and nobody he had been interested in paid him any special attention, except Sunny, who he felt no romantic chemistry with. And here was Bryce, a handsome, kind boy with a talent in martial arts. Bryce, who Everett didn’t know the full name of, who treated Everett like a friend, who liked Everett.

  Liquid sunshine spread through Everett’s veins. He basked in a glow he couldn’t see. But he could feel its complete effects. He floated in his little air balloon of confidence, soaring high above clouds he had never thought he’d pass.

  “You still there?” Bryce asked, his voice as sunny as a smile.

  Could Bryce hear Everett’s smile? “What’s your last name? I still don’t know.”

  “I never told you? And you never looked at my belt? My full name’s embroidered on that.”

  “I was always distracted.”

  “By my stunningly good looks?” Bryce boasted.

  In addition to Bryce’s gray skin and automatic aura defenses. “Maybe.”

  “Well, my last name is Pendley. P-e-n-d-l-e-y. I don’t do social media, so you won’t find me on anything.”

  “Bryce. Bryce Pendley,” Everett whispered. He held his phone in front of his face, close enough to hear the soft buzz of Bryce’s voice.

  “Yup, that’s my name. Now you can update my contact info on your phone.”

  Chapter 23

  EVERETT COULDN’T look at Bryce in the same way during their next training session. He could see Mr. Pendley’s softened features in Bryce’s face. They had the same intensity in their eyes, restrained like a coiled snake. In the right situation, the snake would uncoil and pounce, but the situation was unknown—for now. What would it take to bring the so-called beast out?

  If Everett had the energy, he would have stripped Bryce’s aura to its bone. He had Bryce’s aura exposed with minimal energy, thanks to a traditional spell he had cast on himself by drinking a glassful of blended grass and other greenery that Buzz had collected. The spell increased his endurance, but it needed touch-ups every hour.

  Bryce’s emotional potential was large, large enough to show in his aura. His aura was alive, curling and uncurling, waiting for something to come within reach for it to grab.

  “You’d be good in form competitions.” Bryce circled Everett’s stance. “No mistakes that I can see. Next?”

  Everett hooked his foot behind his knee and held his arms above his head. He held the pose, the chamber for a double-block acting as his center of balance.

  “How do you keep your balance like that? You’re not even breaking a sweat.”

  “What’s so surprising about this? Can’t you keep your balance?”

  Bryce’s aura flared like a peacock’s feathers.

  “I have a third-degree black belt. I’m required to have excellent balance.” Bryce stood in front of Everett and struck the same pose with a snap of his joints. He didn’t waver for a second.

  In five minutes the aura spell would end. The class would end a few minutes afterward.

  Over the last fifty minutes, Everett had observed the behavior of Bryce’s aura. It was more active than any aura Everett had seen. Its consistency had gone from as smooth as smoke to as stiff as cardboard. The aura’s consistency didn’t always match Bryce’s actions. Sometimes he laughed and his aura stiffened to a plethora of spikes.

  “So are we going out after this lesson or tomorrow? We never chose the date last night,” Bryce said.

  “I’d like to go tonight, but I’m sweaty.”

  “You can shower at my house. I also have clothes you can borrow. They might be a little big since you’re so skinny, but I have this thing for guys wearing baggy clothes.” Bryce laughed, and his aura made petals instead of spikes.

  Everett thought back to how he had been dressed in ill-fitting clothes when he watched Bryce assist at the dojang. Had he gotten Bryce’s attention even then?

  “Why?” Everett smiled at the color in Bryce’s cheeks.

  “Because it’s easy to take off baggy clothes?” Bryce’s aura had the uniformity of smoke.

  Everett’s cheeks burned.

  “Did that make you uncomfortable?”

  “Not in a bad way.”

  “Let me know if I make you uncomfortable. I’ll stop.” Bryce smiled. “Do you want to go out tonight or tomorrow?”

  “Tonight. Will your family be home?”

  Bryce cocked his head and a devilish look came over his face. “I can get them out.”

  BRYCE LIVED in a gated community of maintained gardens, million-dollar properties, luxury cars, and 24-7 local security.

  Everett almost ran his car over a sidewalk while ogling a property that had a lawn so green it looked artificial, and so large it could host a full-size soccer game.

  Bryce’s house was far from the gates and had its own court. It was two stories high, the width of three average houses, and had a five-car garage. The driveway was lined with solar-paneled lights that were brighter than the solar lights Everett saw in other neighborhoods. The front lawn was a curved rectangle of deep green with a rainbow of flowers dotting its border. At the other side of the lawn was a wooden patio with a white conversation set. A white awning with solar-powered bulbs lit the patio in dull white.

  Bryce and Everett parked their cars in the driveway.

  Everett downed the rest of the endurance brew he had made before he left the shop. It tasted like dirt. He thinned the aftertaste with water and then joined Bryce at the front doors.

  The doors couldn’t have been larger than the standard double-door entrances to houses, but when Everett walked through them, they seemed much larger.

  The front doors led into a lobby. There were two sofas on either side of the room. Straight ahead was a hallway twice as wide as the one in Everett’s previous home. It could fit three people side by side with generous space between each body.

  The bottom half of the walls had vertical rows of thick wood paneling. There was a large rug that exposed a strip of the wooden floor al
ong the perimeter of the lobby. A rectangular strip of the runner branched off and stretched down the hall.

  On the walls above the sofas were paintings of a vibrant garden. The artist had the last name Pendley. The first name was difficult to read, but it started with a J.

  “Your house is amazing,” Everett said, trying to keep his voice neutral. Never had he seen such wealth up close. Before visiting Bryce’s house, the closest he had gotten to the rich was when he walked by luxury cars in downtown Ashville.

  “You’ve only seen one room. Wait till you see my bedroom. It’s decked out with the coolest things you will ever see, including a TV that flips out of the wall and a surround sound system. I have a subwoofer in my wall.”

  The hall stretched all the way down the house. Each entry to another room had an arch or a door set in an alcove. The dining room had glass double doors that were so clear Everett mistook them for empty doorframes. There was a separate kitchen, a social room, a living room—what was the difference between the two?—a guest room, laundry room, and an entertainment room. Upstairs were the bedrooms and offices. His father’s office was off-limits, but the other office belonged to him and Melinda.

  Bryce’s bedroom was at the far end of house. It was three times the size of Everett’s old bedroom. It had an alcove for a bookshelf, armchair, and lamp. The bed was queen sized with multiple pillows and, as Bryce had said, a subwoofer was built into the wall above it. The bed faced a flat-screen TV that was flat against the ceiling. Bryce pushed a button next to the light switch and the TV flipped out to face the bed.

  Everett took in the rest of the room’s furnishings, such as the martial arts weapons stored on a specialized shelf, the balcony that had a patio set, and the case of martial arts trophies and medals.

  Bryce disappeared into his walk-in closet. “I have some clothes you can borrow—or keep. You can take them home if you like.” He brought out a large basketball T-shirt and baggy sweatpants. “I have underwear too, if you don’t mind sharing.”

  “Boxers?” Everett kept his mind off the idea of wearing something that had gotten up close and personal with Bryce’s privates.

  “Sure. The bathroom’s the first door on the right.”

  Bryce’s bathroom had two sinks that were two large white bowls that stuck out of the counter. The mirror was lined with tiny bulbs that were bright enough to light the room without burning Everett’s eyes. The shower had two nozzles and a slab for sitting.

  The water heated quickly, and Everett made quick use of the shower, though he would have loved to stay inside for much longer.

  The boxers were a perfect fit, but the pants and the shirt were massive. The collar was stretched so much that it fell off one of his shoulders. Everett felt like a boyfriend who desperately wanted to be sexy but was failing with an extreme level of secondhand embarrassment.

  “I’m utterly jealous of your house,” Everett said.

  “Everyone is.” Bryce ruffled Everett’s hair as they traded rooms.

  Everett was hypersensitive of the fact that Bryce didn’t lock the bathroom door or even close it all the way. He lay belly down on Bryce’s bed and watched the cartoon program playing on the TV.

  The shower turned on, and he rolled off the bed, landing on his toes. He snuck down the hall to Mr. Pendley’s office. He tried the door handle, expecting resistance. It was unlocked.

  He paused. Nothing changed in the rhythm of the shower water. He slunk into the office and felt along the wall for a switch. He found a panel with a flip switch and a dimmer. He turned the lights to their brightest setting.

  The office was minimally furnished, but the wall opposite the door made up for the lack of décor. It had three massive bookshelves. Each shelf was packed with books, most of which were hardbound and seemed to be decades old.

  Everett stepped around the cherry desk and touched the spine of a dusty book. He envisioned the witchtales volume Bryce flipped through.

  Lead me to the witchtales.

  Magnetized, he let his hand lead him to the other end of the bookshelf. He spotted the book before the spell ended.

  He didn’t know what he was looking for. He opened to a page where the book spine was broken. The book was breaking in half because of cruel handling, but there was also a slip of notepaper with several page numbers. “Hybrid Child” was written at the top of the paper.

  He replaced the book and left the office. The shower was still on. Everett probably had a minute or so left of snooping, but he already knew what he needed. He had gotten lucky—or he had fallen into a trap.

  “I love a hot shower after a long workout,” Bryce said. Everett sat on the bed as Bryce entered the room, toweling his hair in a wild way that was bound to give him frizz. “There’s water in my fridge if you want. You look pale again, like you’re going to faint.”

  There was a minifreezer under Bryce’s desk that Everett had mistaken for a safe.

  “No thank you.”

  “If you feel like fainting, get on the ground—or my bed. Whatever is closest.” Bryce hung his towel on his desk chair and crawled on the bed next to Everett, elbows folded under his chin.

  Bryce’s sleepwear was a large shirt and tiny shorts.

  His eyes wanted to analyze Bryce’s sculpted thighs. They were unbelievably hairless.

  “You shave?”

  “Checking my legs out, Hallman?”

  Everett grasped his mistake too late. Bryce bent his legs in the air and crossed his ankles. His gaze dared Everett to study his legs.

  “Your eyebrows led me to think you would be hairy.”

  Bryce rubbed against the grain of his eyebrows. He slowly smirked. “Does that only apply to my legs?”

  Everett laughed. “You’re disgusting.”

  “If you really thought that, you wouldn’t be ogling my legs.” Bryce flexed his legs.

  “I appreciate their sculpture,” Everett said.

  “Wanna touch?” Bryce waggled an eyebrow and slid a hand up his smooth thigh. “They’re silky smooth. I just waxed them this morning.”

  Everett snapped his attention to the TV, biting down on his smile. “No thank you.”

  Aside from whatever powers Bryce had in his paranormal form, Bryce’s other powers included making Everett speak without thinking and making Everett feel like an actual teenager.

  “Why did you wax?” Everett forced himself to stare at the wrinkles in the comforter next to Bryce’s elbow.

  “I love smooth legs. I used to shave, but I accidently cut myself with the razor, and it burned like hell.”

  “I don’t mind body hair.” It was the thick hair on Bryce’s head that he loved.

  “I’d assume you’re hairless, but I can’t tell when you’re always wearing pants and sweaters. Your arms are pretty bare, though.” Bryce skimmed Everett’s arm with the tips of his fingers, electricity tracing where his touch had been. Everett could feel every skinny hair on his body stir.

  How had Everett’s luck brought Bryce, a paranormal being, into his life? Life had been complicated before he learned Bryce wasn’t entirely human. Now it was complicated to the nth degree.

  The dojang and Omar’s disappearance added two different dimensions that Everett hoped were connected. They had to be. It would be too much of a coincidence if they weren’t related in some way. Everett didn’t know how long he had, but he would either solve it first or suffer the consequences of the dimensions clashing.

  He could start the largest bulk of his investigation now, in Bryce’s house, and he already had a major piece of the clues: Mr. Pendley had bookmarked witchtales of hybrid children.

  “Two witches don’t automatically produce a witch child. It’s rare, but sometimes the child is developed to be something else—human or monster.”

  A commercial came on, and Everett asked Bryce to turn the volume down.

  “Can I ask about your mother?” Everett asked.

  Bryce dropped the volume to zero and continued to hold down the volume but
ton until Everett touched his shoulder. His numbness melted into sorrow.

  “You don’t have to,” Everett said.

  “No, it’s fine. You just sort of blindsided me. What do you want to know?” Bryce turned the TV off and the silence buzzed. Oddly, it brought up memories of Buzz and his purring.

  “I just want to know you better.” Everett shrugged one shoulder. “If you don’t want to talk, it’s all right. I can tell you about my parents afterward if you want.”

  Bryce looked at Everett as if he saw beauty so rare it stole his breath. “You really are freaking amazing.”

  Everett’s body jolted as if he had been shocked. Bryce was holding his hand. He pumped Everett’s hand. Their flesh brushed in that single movement, human flesh against something rough with deep creases.

  “Are you okay? You look like you had a moment,” Bryce said.

  “I did.” Everett shifted his hand in Bryce’s. The abnormal flesh was gone. “Can you tell me about how she went?”

  Midblink, Bryce’s expression shifted into deep confusion. “Uh, sure. That’s a strange thing to ask.” Bryce squeezed Everett’s hand and didn’t let go. “I was ten when she was killed by this woman who had a thing against my dad’s novels. She tried to kill my family, but she only killed my mom before dad got her.” His grip on Everett’s hand got stronger. “I wasn’t there because I was sleeping over at a friend’s house. My dad picked me up the next morning. We moved houses after that.” Bryce shrugged. “It was a long time ago. I’m okay with it now.”

  “Your mother must have been a wonderful person.”

  “She was. I got my nose from her.” Bryce laughed in the way people did when they wanted to cry and needed a diversion.

  “Was she a martial artist like you?”

  “Yeah, but she was self-taught. She was the most athletic in the family, and that’s why I took tae kwon do. I wanted to follow her footsteps. She used to do parkour in the park, even after she gave birth to me. She freaked out over her weight and parkoured until her abs came back.”