The Bridge (25 page)

He screamed Bryce’s name, then Everett grabbed at low-hanging tree branches to slow the wisp’s pull. He imagined sucking all energy from the wisp—and something clicked in his mind, turning his imagination into a working spell. The wisp released him, falling on its face in sudden exhaustion. It dragged itself away, climbing up a tree.

In the living world, a spell of that strength would have exhausted him.

Everett dropped his chin on the ground and breathed in. His ankle was raw from where the wisp had grabbed him.

The wisps were spirits who had turned to the darkness for their comfort. Human spirits who had lost their way. Everett could save them, if they gave him the chance. He didn’t know how, but considering how far he had gotten in his investigation, he probably could figure something out.

A creature beyond the yellow bush behind Everett screamed, its voice like grains spilling down an hourglass. Black dust exploded in the air. The light that filtered through the trees’ paper leaves highlighted the glitter particles in the dust.

Everett stood and went to the nearest tree, leaning against it before his legs could buckle.

“Everett!”
Buzz shot out from the yellow bush and bumped into Everett’s chest. Glitter poofed off Buzz’s cap from the impact.

“I’m so glad to see you.” Everett sank to the ground, careful not to crush Buzz against his chest.

“The Warden wants you to open a bridge for him. That’s why everyone’s after you, even the hybrids I think.”

“But why? The hybrids are human. They can’t turn against their people.”

Buzz floated next to the tree Everett sat in front of.
“There might be something in it for them. People will do crazy things for their greatest desires. That’s what the Wardens go after. They offer something you can’t get without paranormal help, and it makes it easier to stab others in the back.”

Everett didn’t want to run. He wanted to talk. Words could be more powerful than actions. If he chose the right words, he could convince the hybrids to grab Omar and run away with him. Except, was Omar actually here?

Bryce’s voice echoed off the trees. “Everett!” He grunted and a bush rustled. A branch snapped and Bryce growled. “Everett! Where are you?”

“
Here!”

Bryce stepped through a papery underbrush and hugged Everett, careful not to press too hard against the paper cuts. “Thank goodness you’re okay.”

Everett looked at the bushes. “The wisps—”

“Dead. Don’t worry.”

Everett grabbed Bryce’s forearms. “We can’t keep running. We have to confront them.”

“Let’s escape. Let’s open a bridge and go home. We can report this to the Order.”

“It might be too late.”

Bryce eyes burned. “Too late for what?”

“The Order will take time to get to us. They will arrest us and interrogate us and meanwhile Sunny and the others will face all the paranormal creatures here.”

“The hybrids are actually on the demons’ side. For now.”

“The Warden will turn against them once he knows we escaped. We have to do what we can now,” Everett said.

“The Warden? You know about Zhell? Wait.” Bryce shook his head, confusion shining thickly in his eyes. “What the hell’s going on?”

Everett realized he hadn’t told Bryce anything Buzz had shared. “The hybrids are working with the Warden. They want to open a bridge to the living world.”

“Shit.” Bryce shook his head. “Then we’re getting you out of here. They lied to me. We were supposed to get Omar and leave, not bargain with a damn demon.”

“A Warden,”
Buzz corrected.

“Whatever. I should’ve—” Bryce shook his head, clearly disappointed with himself.

Everett pushed Buzz out of the way. “Bryce, is Omar here?”

“He should be. If he wasn’t, I wouldn’t have come here with the others. He might be dead already.” Bryce turned, but Everett grabbed his elbow and held him back.

“Why is Omar here?”

Bryce sighed. He grabbed Everett’s wrists and held him still, looking right into his eyes. “We hybrids have had dreams of a Warden named Zhell since we were babies. Zhell promised he could grant any of our wishes, so long as we made a bridge for him. Sunny, Jake, and Lena found Omar, an unregistered hybrid Bridge Master, and he agreed to help, because he also had a wish. Well, he claimed he had one, actually. And Zhell said he could grant it.

“I was with them when they opened the bridge. I didn’t have a wish, and I should have reported it to the Order, but I was scared. When Omar came out with Zhell, he tried to kill him. Zhell’s body was split between two worlds, and he should have been easy to defeat, but he wasn’t. He took Omar with him.”

Bryce wasn’t the only danger. Mr. Pendley had been referring to all hybrids. They all had a weakness, a connection to a manipulative force that could bring upon the destruction of the world.

Everett had never heard or read of anything like this.

“The wishes and dreams are censored information, aren’t they?” Everett looked at Buzz.

“The Order is scared witches will take matters into their own hands and hunt down hybrids.”

And Buzz had known this all along? “Why wait until now to tell me?”

Buzz hesitated to answer.
“The wishes aren’t an actual thing. Wishes are just a fancy name for deals. I thought the hybrids knew this, and I thought they wouldn’t come to assist the Warden. I thought they wanted to save Omar.”
He hesitated again.
“That’s why I let you come here, even when I insisted you report this to the Order. I thought you could help them save Omar… and be a hero.”
Buzz’s cap compressed, his version of hiding in himself.

“A hero?”

“You’ve always wanted to be one. When you were a kid you talked about saving the world with your powers.”

“Can we save this for another time? The Warden is still hunting us down,” Bryce said.

Everett nodded. “You’re right. But why can’t they use Omar? He’s a Bridge Master too.”

“He might be dead.” Bryce’s eyes were completely black in his shifted form, as if they had swallowed all the light specks.

“You could be next
.”

Anyone could be next. It had been decades since Zhell had had his shot at bridging to Earth. Everett knew he wouldn’t let this opportunity slip by.

“Bryce, are you here because you have a wish as well?” Everett asked.

Bryce was hurt. It was clear he didn’t think Everett would view him so poorly. “No. I want to save Omar.”

“But you know the others don’t care about Omar. They just want their wishes.”

“I needed them to get me here. Now that I’m here, I can get Omar and get out.” Bryce seized Everett’s wrists. He held them to his chest, then opened Everett’s right hand and splayed it over his heart. “I’m not lying. I swear.”

“I doubt you’re lying. You’re too good for that,”
Buzz said.

“I trust you, but from now on you won’t hold anything back from me. I need to solve this.” Everett slipped his hand out of Bryce’s.

A sudden wind traveled through the forest, kicking up paper leaves and chocolate powder dirt. Birds shaped like Ws rushed over their heads in the same direction, away from the sharp voices that sang of death.

“The wisps have regrouped. Get on my back,” Bryce said.

Bryce darted around trees and bushes, Everett clinging to his back and Buzz flying at a distance to scout for approaching wisps and other demons.

They slowed when the air calmed, and when Bryce needed to put Everett down for a moment to stretch his arms.

Bryce said, “There is one Warden at a time. Every hybrid born during that Warden’s lifetime is bonded to them. Jake, Sunny, Lena, Omar, me—we were born when Zhell was king. We’re all bonded to him. Hybrids aren’t the only ones bonded to Wardens. Other paranormal creatures are too. The Warden is their god.

“I never trusted Zhell, and he never trusted me. I’m not just a hybrid, I’m out of control. I don’t remember what I do when I’m fully transformed, and Zhell finds it irritating because he can’t control me. I’m useless to him.”

“I can relate,” Everett said.

“Yeah? Well, I don’t believe anything he says, so I won’t fall for any wish he promises me. The others may not be so strong. Zhell is highly manipulative. If you’ve known him for your entire life and think he loves you, it’s extremely difficult to—”

“Wisps caught up,”
Buzz said from above their heads.

The air chilled.

Bryce put Everett on his back. He ran them up a sloping cliff, where the trees were more spread out, and skidded down its other side, digging his heels into the powdery dirt until they reached horizontal ground.

Everett said, “I can run myself, if you—”

Bryce’s leg was ripped out from underneath him. Everett and Buzz careened into a tree, but Buzz swelled to the size of mattress and cushioned Everett’s impact.

Everett climbed to his feet. “Bryce?”

Eight fingernail tracks led through underbrush that was rustling from a past disturbance. Bryce had been dragged through, no doubt.

Everett walked through the underbrush. The nail tracks went beyond. It thinned to nothing several paces away.

“We should go in the opposite direction. Go away from the danger.”
Buzz was basketball-sized now, blocking Everett’s path to Bryce.

“And leave him behind?”

“His energy is going to explode. You don’t want to be there when it happens.”

“But we can’t leave him.”

Everett brushed his bangs back, fingers trembling. He needed to cut his hair. He needed to shave it. He needed to do
something.
“Bryce—”

“—should not be your concern.”

A wave of black smoke slammed Buzz against a tree. He shrunk to the size of a fist and hit the ground, unmoving.

Everett reached for him, but something filled his mouth, tied his wrists, ankles. He fell forward and twisted to land on his back.

A man with tawny skin stood over him. Wings of leather and black flames folded behind his back. Red eyes drank in Everett’s body.

“Two Bridge Masters in one year. A new record.” A smile cut through the man’s red mouth.

The man gave off such power, Everett knew without a doubt this was Zhell.

“You were easier to catch than the other, though I am not surprised. You are barely out of your youngling years.”

ZHELL SLUNG
Everett over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, though the ease with which he carried Everett suggested Everett weighed nothing more than a pillow. Everett’s view of the passing forestry was upside down and with the blood rushing to his head, he was too tired to search out significant landmarks. Time seemed to speed up, then slow down, and he realized they were traveling by portal.

He called Buzz’s name, but no response came. Buzz had taken a hard hit to the cap, and it hadn’t looked like a mild injury. Buzz had bumped his cap before, but he had been prepared and his cap had spread the force, the gel rippling like water. He didn’t have time to prepare when he was struck. It was sudden, and Everett hadn’t known what was happening until he was on the ground.

His mouth was still bound by the black wisp. He could breathe through it, which was a blessing, considering how difficult it was to stay awake hanging on the man’s shoulder. His waist hurt, and he wanted to stretch his spine. He wanted Bryce.

The ground passing beneath him combined with the blood rushing to his head knocked him half-asleep. He woke when he was dropped on his back on a spongy mattress. A rough, patchy blanket dropped on his head. He clawed it off and sat up with it clutched to his chest. He was in a tent. The mattress spread from tan wall to wall.

A jug of icy water and a cloudy glass stood on a silver tray near the entrance. A wooden box of clean clothes and towels sat in the back of the tent. Next to the chest were an upside-down wooden bucket and a larger bucket of water.

Someone stood in front of the tent’s closed flap. “Wash up and dress nice. You need to be presentable.”

Everett grabbed a face towel from the chest. He undressed, kept his boxers on, and was wiping his body down when a green-skinned boy his age barged in with a tin container. On the boy’s wrist was the same symbol Mrs. Lars and Jake’s truck had. The boy was coated in dirt that seemed sunken into his skin. His long hair was braided and matted, twigs and branches tucked inside. If Everett wasn’t presentable, this boy was downright filthy.

“Your hair is too long,” the boy said with an unidentifiable accent.

Up close he smelled like he had bathed in earth—purposefully.

The boy dumped the container’s contents on the ground. He dipped the container in the bucket and then poured the water on Everett’s head.

Everett kicked his leg out. “C-Cold.”

“I forgot you are weak to temperature. You have my apologies.”

“It’s all right—ow!”

The boy ripped a brush down Everett’s hair, tearing out knots. “Again, my apologies. I will cut out what I can.”

Everett’s hair drifted to the ground. His head got lighter and his neck got colder. His bangs were the last to go.

The boy handed Everett a chipped mirror. “If you want to see.”

Everett had never seen so much of his face before. His hair was short and choppy, and he liked it. He had always been convinced his best haircut would be long, but he looked just as nice with short hair. It was a shame he felt this confident when he was expected to unleash a Warden on Earth.

The boy poured water on his head again. He worked a floral gel into Everett’s hair and massaged. When it dried, Everett’s hair was shiny and spiked, like a longer variation of Lena’s hair.

The boy put the hair tools back in the container. “I look forward to traveling the bridge.” He smiled and left, the tools jingling against each other in the container.

So that boy would be going to the living world too. He seemed nice. Harmless. But he didn’t belong among the living. He was a denizen of In Between, and he must remain so.

The clothes in the chest were plain and made of a thick but flexible material. There were only leggings, tunics, and sashes. He used the little fashion sense he had to piece together a formal and plain outfit: black leggings, blue tunic, and a white sash. He felt like a medieval boy.