Chapter ten
Bridget
The standstill traffic on I95 through Providence was doing nothing to help Bridget’s migraine. Since Alexia had arrived in Salem, the incessant sharp pain radiating from her temple was beginning to feel like a permanent fixture. It pulsed and squeezed every time she mentioned Andarre or Cora or the curse. Which happened to be every five minutes. The only things Alexia wanted to talk about were the very things Bridget wanted to avoid. Groaning, Bridget pulled her white fluffy beanie further down her forehead and hoped once they got out of Rhode Island, there would be no more obstacles preventing them from reaching the Cavamynian gate by nightfall.
Beside her in the driver’s seat, Archer fidgeted and impatiently tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Every few minutes, he would hum a song under his breath. Even though the noise did nothing to help her head, Bridget was too tired to tell him to stop. When Nylah coughed from the backseat, he stiffened. After peeking at the young girl through the rearview mirror, Archer turned to Bridget and asked, “Are you sure this is a goodidea?”
“What other choice do we have?” Bridget muttered. “We need him to cross the gate.”
Her plan was a long shot, but it was the only one they had. Even though Alexia had poisoned Nylah with the notion of forcing them to go to Andarre, she had no real way to get back or cross the gate. Bridget nearly killed her a second time when she broke the news. They needed a Shaman. And there was only one Bridget knew. Or knew of. There was no guarantee he would show up back at the Cavamynian gate. After all, the last time she’d seen him, he’d been at the Astraeus one. But he was a Shaman. He’d been there when she’d come through before... And if he was so determined to keep her from crossing, then surely he would show up to stop her again.
The Shaman would be there. He had to be.
From the backseat, Alexia poked her head over the center console. “There are still a few options. He’s seen Quinn perform the spell,” she said, nodding her head at Archer. “He can—”
“We’re not killing anyone,” Bridget snapped, cutting her off. A shiver went down her spine as she remembered the first time she’d traveled through the gate. She still saw Quinn holding up a bloody knife in her dreams. With a snide smile directed at Alexia, Bridget added, “Unless you’re volunteering.”
Rolling her eyes, Alexia huffed and settled back in her seat beside Nylah.
“What if he’s not there?” Archer asked quietly. “What if we can’t find him?”
Bridget’s throat tightened. Craning her neck, she snuck a look at her sister. Swollen, dark eyes glued to Archer’s phone, Nylah coughed again. Her cheeks were flushed and there was a little bit of snot hanging from her nose. Wordlessly, Bridget handed her a tissue. Alexia had said the poison spread slowly, but every morning, Nylah’s condition worsened. Forcing her gaze away, Bridget whispered, “We will.”
She wouldn’t fail her sister. Even if she had to parade around the gate for days and somehow lure the Shaman out with some spells by Archer, Bridget would find him.
There were a few blessed seconds of silence before the sound of Zac Efron’s voice blasted through the car. Archer immediately perked up and started singing along. Bridget rubbed her temples. She recognized the song from a musical that her and Archer sometimes watched on nights when they had too much tequila.
“This is entertainment?” Alexia asked scathingly.
“To some people,” Bridget sighed, giving Archer a sideways glance.
Alexia pushed another button and turned up the song louder. Over the noise, she yelled, “This little box says it’s in your top ten most watched. What does that mean?”
Bridget whirled around and swiped her phone out of Alexia’s hand. “Give me that.”
After exiting the app, she stuffed the device between her legs. She’d hoped giving Alexia her phone would distract her enough to stop talking, like Nylah. Whatever show her sister was watching had kept her silent most of the ride to Connecticut.
After a moment, Alexia said, “You haven’t asked me anything about Andarre.”
“And that surprises you? You poisoned my sister and are withholding the cure until we go there. Only you would think blackmail makes a person talkative.”
“Bitch move,” Nylah mumbled, not bothering to look up from the phone.
“Nylah,” Bridget scolded.
Archer shrugged. “She’s not wrong.”
“It’s your home,” Alexia argued, “onlyyouwould be stubborn enough not to ask any questions.”
Bridget pressed her lips into a determined line and stared out the window. Supermarkets and gas stations blurred past, none of them holding her focus for more than a second. All her effort went into keeping her expression blank. She wouldn’t give Alexia the satisfaction of knowing how much a single word had affected her.
Home.
Contrary to Alexia’s unfounded belief, it was not the otherworldly place she’d once pretended to be from for the tournament. It never would be.Homehad evolved in her head over the years. From a foreign concept, to locations and people. It never stayed the same, until one constant came along. Nylah. And then Bridget was sure she knew what the word meant. Even when they no longer lived under the same roof, Bridget had held on tothatversion of home like a lifeline… had fought like hell to make sure it would return to her. Until golden brown eyes and a snarky smile changed everything. In the blink of an eye, home transformed to include not just one person, buttwo. And it became full of color and life and a joy she hadn’t thought possible.
But then it was erased… and replaced with a land full of magic and darkness. A darkness that would always linger on her soul. Still, even there, the word rebuilt and transformed in her mind. Just as she had begun to grasp the new version, it was ripped from her. Again.
Now, home was smaller, quieter. It consisted of a tiny house in a new city and bright smiles from her sister. Sometimes Archer’s singing and bad jokes. But only half of her heart.Real, but only slightly.
