Nylah gagged and then quickly put on her boots. As she watched her, Bridget’s stomach sank. She really hoped she wouldn’t regret letting Nylah come, or help. But maybe she was right. Maybe an extra set of eyes would be beneficial. She wasn’t sure Archer was putting much effort into finding the gate again, anyway…
Behind Nylah, the girl from Bridget’s dream suddenly materialized. Rearing back into the refrigerator, a magnet fell on her head as she slammed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was seeing things. She had to be.
“Are you okay?” Nylah asked.
Bridget opened her eyes. The girl was still there, observing her sister with a puzzled frown. When the girl caught Bridget watching, her face changed. With a playful smirk, she reached toward Nylah and…
“Get over here,” Bridget ordered, yanking Nylah behind her when she didn’t move fast enough.
“Um, ouch. Are you on some kind of Witchy drugs from Archer?”
Bridget glared at her. When she turned back around, the girl had disappeared. The kitchen was silent and untouched. Like nothing had happened at all. “You didn’t see that?”
Frowning, Nylah waved her hand through the air. “I saw you being weird.”
Relief and dread tangling in Bridget’s chest. If Nylah hadn’t seen it, then maybe it was just her. Maybe this was what came after magic—flashbacks, fractures, her mind finally snapping under the weight of everything she’d survived.
She shoved the fear down hard, the way she’d learned to do with pain, with longing, with anything that threatened to break her. There wasn’t room for this… not now. Not with Nylah watching her so closely.
“Right…” Bridget said, pasting on a half-smile. “Let’s go find Archer before I completely lose my mind.”
Outside, the streets of the South End were filled with early morning traffic. Around them, people hurried past them to get to work or school. Bridget grabbed Nylah’s hand and led her to Archer’s favorite coffee shop down the street. As the crowd started to thin, she felt it again. Eyes. Just like she had yesterday. Bridget’s spine stiffened. She slowed down her pace and studied the street around her. She was about to pull Nylah through the park when she heard the last voice she ever expected.
“Hello, Bridget.”
Ice spiraling through her veins, Bridget whipped around and came face to face with Alexia. She blinked, and then again, to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. Reflexively, her gaze darted to the sidewalk behind, half-expecting to see Cora there. Bridget slammed her eyes shut and tried to calm her racing heart. Cora was dead. She’d seen her die. Swallowing hard, she returned her focus to the smirking girl in front of her.
“How are you here right now?” Bridget gasped.
A flicker of surprise went through Alexia’s eyes as she gazed at Nylah. “Who’s this?”
Bridget pushed Nylah behind her. Still stunned to see Alexia very much aliveandaware, she blurted, “You remember? How?”
“Did you ever have to wear an ugly cape like that?” Nylah whispered to Bridget.
Alexia took a step toward them. “Of course, I do.”
“Don’t come any closer,” Bridget hissed.
“Or what?” Alexia chided. “I’m here to finish what Cora started. I’m here to bring you back.”
In Vassuryn, Alexia had beaten her in most fights. Bridget knew it was why she confidently kept getting closer to her and Nylah and laughed off her threat. Since then, though, she’d trained with Cassia, and taken every self-defense and boxing class she could since they’d moved to Boston.
Jaw clenched, Bridget stepped forward and punched Alexia square on the chin.
When she collapsed to the ground with a loud smack, Nylah gasped. Her sister shuffled over to poke at Alexia’s unmoving body. “Can you teach me how to do that?” she asked.
Bridget glared at her. After making sure no one was watching, she dragged Alexia off the sidewalk. She sat her up and made it look like she was sleeping against the alley’s brick wall.
“Call Archer,” she told Nylah, “we’re going to need help getting her back to the house.”
Chapter seven
Archer patted the side of Alexia’s swollen face, but she didn’t stir. “Exactly how much have you been lifting at the gym?”
It’d been an hour since they’d gotten Alexia back to their house and tied her up to one of the kitchen chairs. Bridget shrugged. There had been a year’s worth of pent-up rage in her punch. She wasn’t going to apologize. In the living room, Nylah pretended to pick up and throw a person to the ground. She growled and kicked the air. Archer stared at her incredulously.
“What is she doing? I swear I only let her watch wrestling once. Maybe twice.”
