by Rachel Lou
“Good morning, Mrs. Lars,” Everett’s grandfather said. He counted out change for the current teens at the front of the line. He had worked efficiently and now there were only four customers left in line.
She leaned against the desk, her bottom sticking out to the pleasure of the boys behind her. “I see the shop’s doing well. Lots of…. Wizard Magic Hand fans here today,” she said.
Everett knelt in front of the dogs and stuck his hand out.
“Summers are always busy,” Everett’s grandfather said.
The dogs sniffed his hand and bowed their heads, then stretched their front legs out and lowered half their body to the ground, heads flat against the ground. They looked like they were stretching, but to Everett—and the teens who watched—it was a bow.
Mrs. Lars looked at her dogs, a fond smile crossing her lips. “Roll over.”
The dogs rolled away from each other, paws in the air. The people watching awwed.
Everett rubbed the dogs’ soft bellies. He felt many eyes on him, and one particular pair made it feel like a knife was poised at his neck. Mrs. Lars nodded, brown eyes brighter than Everett had ever seen them. A wave of heat washed over his exposed skin, then under his clothes.
“Everett? What’s happening?” Buzz was panicked.
The box with Everett’s aura in it shuddered in his mind. Something tugged on the lock, and Everett visualized the box disappearing out of that invading force’s reach. The lock dropped, untouched. The intruding warmth that was coiling into Everett’s skin retreated—and then returned with full force. It was almost painful. Something sharp poked into the lock, and Everett stood, staggering backward into another body.
“Everett?” his grandfather said.
He couldn’t make a scene. There were too many people watching. Mrs. Lars knew. She had used it to her advantage. Everett couldn’t fight back.
“Everett? I’m on my way right now. Damn! I shouldn’t have gone so far!” Buzz let out a string of nonhuman curses.
“She’s forcing my aura out. How?” Everett’s vision pulsed with red veins.
Everett went to exit the shop, but Jake was in the doorway, his hands full of shopping bags. “Mom?”
“Everett has something important to say,” Mrs. Lars said. She folded her fingers over her palm and inspected her scarlet nails. They were filed to points.
Everett’s grandfather rushed through the remaining customers in line.
“Ten minutes until the next rounds start,” someone said.
The shop filled with voices and movement as the customers grabbed their books, some choosing random books as they passed, and hurried to the checkout.
Jake closed the door behind the last customer and joined his mother. He put the bags next to his mother’s feet.
“Everett is a Bridge Guardian,” Mrs. Lars said.
Jake’s eyes lit up.
“You finally have a friend who is special just like you.” Mrs. Lars rubbed Jake’s shoulder.
Their physical resemblance to each other was uncanny. They were two parts of the same person. Mrs. Lars had the majority of the confidence and Jake had what little was left over. In this pair, the mother ran the show and the son followed with the compliance of the hellhounds.
“Jake is a hybrid. He doesn’t know many other specialties his age,” Mrs. Lars said.
Specialties, as if they weren’t human at all.
“How did you force my aura out? I had it locked,” Everett said.
“It wasn’t locked very well.”
“It was as solid as some of the blocks experienced witches create,” Everett’s grandfather said, his voice brusque with no room for kindness.
“His hold on it must have slipped since you last inspected it.” Her eyes glittered as they focused on Everett, her lips stretched in a wide smile. “I suspected there was something special about you.”
Mrs. Lars patted Jake’s shoulder. He jerked with every pat, sweat breaking across his face. She squeezed his shoulder after the final pat, fingers clawlike. They dug into Jake’s shirt. The skin around her nailbeds turned gray.
She smiled pleasantly. “Play safe. Jake is a fragile child.” She flicked her son’s cheek and left, a dog on either side of her feet, their paws moving in unison.
“You should go,” Everett’s grandfather said to Jake.
“I’ll text you later, Everett.” Jake walked backward, exposing Everett’s aura with a weak wave of warmth. “You really are….” He bumped into a swivel shelf and sent a few books to the ground.
Everett helped Jake put them back. Two customers walked in and distracted Everett’s grandfather from distastefully eyeing Jake.
“She was right.” Jake was awed.
Everett was disgusted.
Mrs. Lars had suspected all along. Had sent her son here to get Everett’s attention. Had probably schemed much more.
“When can I summon the bridge?” Everett whispered.
“Can you make it tomorrow night?”
Everett gave the shelf a spin and touched up the rows. Jake tucked in a book that was stuck out.
“Same time as last night?”
Jake nodded. “It might be earlier since we don’t know how long the mission will take.” He looked at Everett’s grandfather. “Don’t tell your grandpa. He won’t approve of anything involving me, thanks to my mom.” He huffed.
Jake left with the shopping bags his mother hadn’t taken.
Buzz flew through the shop’s open door. “Everett? Are you okay?” He crashed into Everett’s chest. “You got me so worried. I had to sprint here all the way from San Francisco.”
“What were you doing in San Francisco?” Everett asked.
“I went on a boat tour with my buddies. I flew as fast as I could. My tentacles got stretched so much, and they hurt….”
Buzz whined and Everett held him out. The tentacles resembled overcooked angel hair noodles.
EVERETT TUCKED his face into the crook of his arm. He lay on his bed, his phone at his elbow. He and Bryce had been texting for the past half hour or so.
Bryce texted, Are you free tonight? I want to give you a night ride around town.
Love to! My grandfather doesn’t want me out, but I can sneak through the back door. 11 PM maybe?
Buzz was sleeping on Everett’s pillow, resting his noodle-like tentacles. Earlier, Buzz had been guarding the beer bottles sitting on the night table from Everett, saying that Everett had drunk too much. Drinking hadn’t been part of any plan, but Everett had been desperate for something to take his mind off the two-way bridge he was to create the next day. His grandfather always kept a few bottles in the fridge in case they had visitors. They rarely had visitors, and when they did, the visitors didn’t drink.
Bryce texted, You’re going to sneak out? I don’t believe you.
One of Buzz’s tentacles twitched, and Everett sputtered before bursting into laughter.
“Are you laughing at me?” Buzz said.
“I’m sorry. They’re just so flimsy.” Everett laughed so hard he snorted.
If Everett hadn’t drunk so much, he wouldn’t have laughed so hard.
“I told you not to drink that much,” Buzz sniffed.
“I’m stressed. I can’t think. I needed to relax and there was beer conveniently in the fridge.” Everett had loathed the bitter taste, but he had gulped it down and his gag reflex had almost kicked in.
Everett texted, I’m a little drunk so I’m in the mood for some rule breaking.
You? Drinking? I can’t imagine.
Maybe it was the alcohol, but Everett couldn’t tell if Bryce was joking or disappointed—or both.
“Won’t your grandpa notice it’s gone?” Buzz said.
“He will, but by the time he notices, I’ll be in so much trouble he won’t care.” Or Everett would be dead and there wouldn’t be a need to care.
Everett could see the sleep zap out of Buzz’s body. “You’re going to do it?”
“I have to. This m
ight be the only break I get.”
“You do know what they’re going to do to you.”
Make him open the bridge. Take them through. Get Omar—if he was even in there. Do the mystery part of the plan that Everett hadn’t figured out. Get Omar and the others out. Possibly die from excessive energy depletion.
“This is connected to everything strange that has been going on. The paranormal residue in the dojang probably belonged to Bryce and the hybrids. Omar disappeared in a two-way bridge that was summoned in his house, with the hybrids as his witnesses. The woman who walked in on us doing the investigation was Lena.”
Buzz squirmed. “You figured that out?”
“Her voice matched. Why didn’t you tell me? You saw her that day and you saw her in the street.”
“I just thought you’d do something stupid.”
“Like I’m doing now?”
“You’re going to get hurt.” Buzz turned a sad eye on Everett.
Two knives of guilt stabbed Everett in the chest, one from Buzz and one from his grandfather. He was going to kill himself with guilt if the energy depletion didn’t.
Everett texted, I’m not going to vomit though. I’m good with alcohol. I think.
Suuuuuuuuure. Do you want me to come over now?
I’m fine. I didn’t drink enough to pass out. Just to get a little fuzzy.
“Who’re you texting? Bryce?” Buzz floated next to Everett’s phone. He sat down slowly, curling his tentacles in a pool of string and wincing in pain. “Don’t laugh.”
Everett coughed. “I’m sneaking out with Bryce tonight. Can you keep an eye on my grandfather and make sure he doesn’t find out? Take care of him too?”
“Your judgment is totally impaired when you’re drunk. Are you sure you want to do this?”
Everett felt nauseated, and it wasn’t because of the beer. “I might die tomorrow, so I want to live a little before I go.”
“Don’t talk like that. Like you’re certain you’re going to die. I’m going to be with you the whole time, so you know I’ll protect you.”
“I’m sorry for being so pessimistic, but Buzz, I have a feeling something terrible is going to happen. Do you know what I mean? It’s right there, I’m walking into it, and I can’t avoid it. I can’t step around it. I have to walk right through it or I can’t succeed.”
“You don’t have to do this. Get the Order involved.”
“Mrs. Lars is involved. There might already be others in the Order involved.”
He received another text from Bryce and didn’t read it. He tossed his phone to the side and rested his head on his folded arms.
Buzz dragged his tentacles to the phone and pulled it to his body, swearing at the pain that made his cap turn deep pink. “Bryce says he’s going to take a nap, and then he’ll pick you up at eleven. Where do you want to meet him?”
“Tell him the back lot of the Quick Spell Bookshop in Sundale. And say I have to go.”
“Got to go, but I’ll meet you at the back of the Quick Spell Bookshop in Sundale,” Buzz read as his tentacle tapped out the message.
“Thanks. I’m going to sleep. Wake me up at ten fifty.”
“I’ll set an alarm.”
Buzz curled into a spiral against Everett’s torso. Everett fell asleep after a few blinks.
Chapter 27
EVERETT’S HAND shot to his phone when the alarm went off. He jabbed the screen until he hit the snooze button.
Buzz was a mess of stringy tentacles. He lay on the round part of his cap, squishing it under his weight.
“Go. I’ll catch up later. So tired.”
“Lazy.” Everett deleted his alarm and rolled off the bed, landing on feet that didn’t want to support his weight.
He put his phone and a few packets of salt in a small sack. He grabbed a sweater, socks, and running shoes. He kept Bryce’s sweatpants on because they were comfortable enough to make him fall asleep anywhere, and he wanted to see if Bryce would notice them.
He stuffed his bed with his pillow and a few clothes, gently rolled Buzz under the bedsheets, and grabbed his keys.
The floorboards were against him tonight. Some of them creaked as he tiptoed to the back door. Luckily, his grandfather didn’t come out. He locked the door behind him, then crept down the stairs.
Bryce’s car waited next to the stairs, its lights off.
“You look ready to sleep,” Bryce said.
“You’re dressed the same,” Everett said.
“We won’t be doing much walking, if at all, so you could’ve come down in pajamas and it wouldn’t have mattered.”
Bryce drove out of the lot and then turned his lights on, illuminating an empty road. On most weeknights, Everett’s street was dead. The nightlife was blocks away.
“Are you still tipsy?” Bryce asked.
“Not really, but don’t count on me taking the wheel if you need a break.” Everett didn’t like the streetlamps; they hurt his eyes.
“You’re so loose. How much did you drink?”
“A bottle. I’ve never had beer before. It was my first time.”
“What kind?”
Everett didn’t remember. He didn’t even know for sure if the bottle had been beer. It looked like beer, and he had desired a distraction from tomorrow, so he chugged it down.
“I didn’t check.”
Bryce whistled. “Everett Hallman. Living on the edge.” He took them down a scenic county road. He turned his brights on and illuminated the houses that slowly gave way to trees, trees, and more trees. “Have you been here before?”
“Haven’t had the chance. It reminds me of the woods, though. Fucking huge trees.”
Bryce laughed. “You’re different when you’re drunk.”
“Everyone is.” Everett thought he’d feel sick if he watched the trees zoom by, but the blurs of dark green were a sedative.
“I don’t think I like it,” Bryce said quietly.
Bryce pulled onto a worn road that branched off. After ten minutes of trees and no cars, Bryce pulled onto another road and parked in the dirt clearing it led to. There were picnic tables, but they were filthy and hadn’t been used in months. Thick spiderwebs linked the benches to the tables.
“There’s a bathroom if you need one.” Bryce pointed at a small wooden outhouse that looked home to dozens of spiders.
Bryce turned off the headlights and then the car engine. The entire car was cast in darkness.
“What are we doing here? Making out in the moonlight?” Everett unbuckled his seat belt.
Bryce unbuckled his seat belt and pushed his seat and backrest as far back as they could go. He took his shoes off. Everett did the same with his seat and shoes.
“No. Come here. Cuddle with me.” Bryce scooted to the left and patted the small space on his right. Everett would have to press against Bryce’s body to fit on the seat, but that was the point.
Everett found he couldn’t fit comfortably next to Bryce. He tried to lie partway on Bryce, but his groin pressed against Bryce’s hip, and it did amazing things that Everett would rather save for his alone time. Everett felt around the seat for a place to hold himself up while he moved. The dark blended with Bryce’s crotch, and Everett palmed it.
Bryce gasped and crawled backward. Everett lost his balance and fell on top of Bryce, his knee pressed between Bryce’s legs and his hands on either side of Bryce’s body.
They were both breathing hard, their faces flushed.
Everett touched Bryce’s cheek and found the skin warm and… not human. He brought his hands to Bryce’s face and felt the skin. It was rough with indentations like the gaps between scales on fish. He touched Bryce’s ears. The cartilage made the skin rougher and the pattern deeper.
He felt Bryce’s neck, and the skin there too had the same texture. It disappeared under human flesh as Bryce’s disguise slipped back on.
“You hid this in the dark,” Everett said.
“I can explain.”
“Put
it back on. I want to feel.”
The skin was the same under Bryce’s shirt. Everett ran his fingers over Bryce’s collarbones. He loved the dip and rise of the scales. The skin got thicker under Bryce’s collarbones. He wanted to slide his hands down Bryce’s chest and feel as they got thicker and thicker. He wondered how thick the skin was around Bryce’s groin and if it would chafe against human skin.
Everett moved his hands against Bryce’s chest and felt Bryce’s humanlike heartbeat. He trailed his hands down, slower when he reached Bryce’s waistband. He held his hands at the elastic of the shorts.
“What are your knuckle scabs from?” Everett asked.
“Sometimes when I transform, my knuckles have difficulty shifting, so my skin tears.”
“You’re the hybrid child of two witches,” Everett said. He touched the scales under Bryce’s bunched shorts.
“How’d you know?”
“I’m a witch. The witch your father warned you about. Maybe worse than a witch. I’m a Bridge Master.”
Bryce felt Everett’s face. His fingers lingered on Everett’s cheekbones. “I thought you weren’t a real witch.”
“I’m definitely a real witch. I attempted to strip your aura away many times, and every time I was attacked by an automatic counterattack. I don’t think you noticed, except those times you felt sudden drafts. I was drawn to the dojang because of you.”
“That was you? Wait.” Bryce grabbed Everett’s wrists when they played with Bryce’s waistband. “Counterattacks? Is that why you fainted?”
“Don’t worry about it. They were automatic. Natural defenses you were born with.”
“I’m sorry. But if you’re a witch, why is my dad so serious about keeping me away? You’re not going to hunt me down and kill me, are you? Are witches hunters?”
Everett didn’t know his face was close to Bryce’s, so he ducked his face to laugh and felt Bryce’s warm breath. “I’m not going to hurt you, I swear. I know your father said you should avoid witches, but I’m harmless.”
Bryce cupped the back of Everett’s head and thumbed the skin under Everett’s hairline. “This isn’t my full form. My natural form is too dangerous to come out.”
