BRIDGER (37 page)

Roslin skipped forward and took her seat at the ridiculous armchair, smiling.
 
Antony walked forward next, taking his place in the mustard yellow chair that had a brown plaid design running through it beside Roslin.
 
A small spring exploded out, ricocheting off of the center chair.
 
He caught it in mid-flight, stuffing it back into his own recliner.
 
Winking, he blew me a kiss.
 
I looked away, hoping he would get the hint.

Two other people emerged from behind the center chair. There must have been a door on the other side of the room, although I didn’t shift my weight to look.
 
Memaw still had a firm grip on my shoulder.
 
If I didn’t know better, she may have just forgotten about it.
 
As it were, though, Memaw didn’t forget a thing.
 
There was a reason for being held in place, so fighting it was pointless.

The first person to emerge was a hulk of a man.
 
He was easily six foot seven and had muscles on top of muscles.
 
His black dreadlocks were pulled back in a leather thong and his eyes were the deepest hunter green I’d ever seen.
 
His movements were lightening fast and erratic, giving him a wild feel.
 
His skin was russet brown and leathery, making me assume that he spent most of his time outdoors.
 
He too wore the black coat, but his was battered as though he wore it more often.
 
He took a seat at the far right, situating himself on the brown armchair. The chair had so many stains on it that it looked almost like a print. He rubbed his hands on the armrests, putting another layer of grime onto the chair.

The girl behind him was close to my age in appearance.
 
She was a redhead and every movement she made was fluid.
 
She skipped forward, almost dancing.
 
Her red hair bounced and was even more severe when contrasted against the black coat.
 
She smiled at me, her green eyes more of a natural color than that of the Incredible Hulk’s who sat nearby.
 
She sat at the chair in the center.
 
The way she carried herself made it clear she was in control of this meeting.
 
Her chair was bright green with purple zebra stripes throughout.
 
Pearl beading outlined the chair, making hers look the most like a throne. Maybe it was.

Turning her palm upward, the redhead beckoned Memaw forward. “Come, Emily, sit with us.”

Memaw gave me one more squeeze and then took her place at the empty chair that could only be hers.
 
It was white with a rainbow assortment of snowflakes printed on it.
 
Around the bottom there was a ring of what looked like blood; it looked just like her skirt.
 
She smiled appreciatively as she took in my examination.
 
Winking at me, she pulled a small dagger out of what seemed thin air and began to twirl it absentmindedly between her fingers.
 
I watched intently, hoping to be able do that the next time I tried.

It was the redhead that spoke again.
 
The authority she held was immediate and unmistakable.
 
I wondered how she had gained her place.
 
“So, this is your granddaughter, is it?”

Antony leaned forward, turning to look at the young woman.
 
“Rebecca, she’s quite interesting.
 
She nearly beat me in a fight in the foyer.”

It was the feral man’s turn to look astonished. He sneered, looking at me. “Really?
 
Have you lost your edge, Antony?
 
She doesn’t look too extraordinary to me.”

“I beg your pardon, Reuben,” Roslin said, cocking her head to the right and grinning slightly.
 
“She can shift, yet she fights like Emily.
 
She’s no Changeling, but she’s not been given the faerie blessing to make her a Glaistig has she, Emily?”

Memaw looked at me, putting her hand to her chin.
 
Ever so slightly, she brushed one finger against her lips.
 
I knew that movement.
 
It was her indication to remain silent.
 
She had done that for years while we were in church.
 
I gave no indication, but she knew her meaning was understood.

Continuing to watch as though nothing had happened, Memaw allowed her hand to support her chin, feigning deep thought.
 
“No, she hasn’t.
 
I assumed that was not my place to offer her on my own.”

Rebecca nodded, sending waves through her already flowing hair.
 
“You assumed correctly.
 
Ah, but look at us.
 
We’re being inhospitable.
 
Sit, little one, sit.”

With a flick of her wrist, an armchair flew from behind and knocked my legs out from underneath me.
 
I landed roughly in it, my head snapping back and hitting the wooden lining.
 
I rubbed my head, eyes watering from the sudden pain.
 
“Um, thank you,” I said, unsure as to if this was a good thing or a bad thing.
 
Rebecca was obviously powerful in a way none of the others were.

“So what are you, young one?
 
Obviously you are somewhat like Tess, whom Emily found, yet you are more like us from the way Antony and Roslin vouch that you fight.
 
Not just anyone can pick up those trademark attacks as easily as you have obviously done,” Rebecca said.
 
She spoke in a way that hinted she was much, much older than she looked.
 
“If you are not a Glaistig but still more than a Bridger, I wonder if you are immortal?”

“No, she’s not,” Memaw said.
 
“She nearly died from an allergic reaction only a few months ago.”

“What kind of allergic reaction?” Reuben said.

Memaw kept her fingers close to her mouth, and I knew it was better to allow them to continue talking as though I was not present. “Eggs.”

Roslin gasped.
 
“So she has the weaknesses of a Changeling.”

“Only eggs.
 
Iron doesn’t affect her,” Memaw corrected.

Rebecca clapped her hands together, excited from this new information.
 
“This is amazing!
 
Yet how is she different from Tess?
 
How is she so skilled in fighting, Emily?”

Memaw’s head dropped, reluctant to respond to this direct question.
 
“She’s part Glaistig already.”

“That’s impossible,” scoffed Reuben.
 
“How can she be
part
Glaistig?
 
It’s all or nothing.”

“Actually, it seems as though there can be middle ground.
 
She was my son’s daughter, and my son was conceived after you granted me immortality.
 
Genetically she is my granddaughter.
 
It would seem that our change from mortal to immortal also changes our bodies in some capacity.”

The looks of each person – I couldn’t bring myself to see them as faeries – varied.
 
Roslin looked flat out thrilled, Antony bored as usual, Reuben rebelliously curious, and Rebecca was thoughtful.
 
None of them looked opposed to this new revelation, which made me feel hopeful that they wouldn’t kill me right here, right now.

Reuben broke the silence.
 
“How much have you taught her, Emily?”

“Practically everything I know about fighting.
 
That’s all.”

I was surprised at her response, because I hadn’t been under the impression Memaw knew how to do anything more than fight.
 
We would have to talk about it later.

“Would you consider her to be as lethal as you in a fight?”

Memaw beamed with pride. “Of course.
 
Her memory is just as good as mine, if not better.
 
She can hold her own against the best.”

“Little one – ” Reuben began, but was cut off by Memaw.

“Ashlyn.
 
Her name is Ashlyn.”

“Alright,” Reuben said, smiling coldly.
 
“Ashlyn, you will prove that you know how to fight as well as your grandmother.”

Antony jumped up, thrilled.
 
“Excellent.
 
You’re going to get it now.”
 
He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

“No, not you, Antony.
 
Emily, you will fight her.”

My mouth dropped practically to the floor, emotions displayed for everyone just like Memaw had made clear not to do.
 
I scanned the rest of the faces in the room, hoping for someone to match my resistance to the idea.
 
Instead, the room was full of hungry faces, waiting for the fight.
 
Roslin was the only exception.
 
She looked scared.
 
I was glad I wasn’t the only one.

“Very well,” Memaw said, not arguing in the slightest.
 
“Ashlyn, go prepare yourself and we’ll meet at the pit outside.”

TWENTY-NINE

I stood outside the stone walls that concealed the sand pit where Memaw and I were going to duel.
 
Roslin was beside me, straightening my breastplate convulsively. She whispered quick tips in rapid fire. “It’s going to be just fine, Ashlyn.
 
Rebecca won’t let you two get out of hand.
 
Just prove your worth and end it there.”

I shifted onto my heels, rocking in place.
 
“There is no way this is okay. I can’t do this.”

Roslin continued to encourage me. “Emily’s immortal.
 
It doesn’t matter in the least what damage you inflict, sweetie.
 
At tops it’d take her a week to heal from the most horrible damage you could manage.
 
You could cut her arm off and we’d be able to put her back together. I think.”

Flinching from the visual image she’d created, I closed my eyes tight. She wasn’t helping the situation at all. “I really can’t do this.”

Roslin shook me hard.
 
“Get a grip, Ashlyn.
 
I like you, so it’d be great if you lasted through the day.
 
Just do your job and then you’ll be done.
 
Reuben is bloodthirsty at best and Rebecca enjoys a show.
 
Let them watch.
 
If something gets botched up, I’ll step in and stop it.”

Nodding, I was vaguely aware she really was trying to make things better.
 
At that moment Reuben’s booming voice echoed from inside the pit, beckoning us in.
 
Roslin slapped me on the back and sprinted ahead through the emerging archway.
 
The stones were shifting, creating an entryway.
 
If the situation weren’t so terrifying, it would have been amazing to watch.

Walking in, Memaw was emerging from the other end.
 
She wasn’t wearing any defensive gear at all.
 
Must be nice being immortal
, I thought as I realized how heavy the breastplate was becoming.
 

Along the left hand side of the pit, all of the chairs from the circular room had been arranged.
 
I couldn’t spare the time to try to figure out if everyone just had duplicate chairs in every room, or if the same one followed their respective owners around.
 
Maybe sometime I would remember to ask Memaw.
 
Probably not, though, if Memaw decapitated me by accident. I was still mortal, part Glaistig or not.
 
Heads didn’t usually get to be hacked off and put back on mortals.

Rebecca clapped her hands together yet again. “Ladies, fight your hardest.
 
Emily, I want to make sure we are still in safe hands, allowing you to be our Assassin.
 
Ashlyn, show me what you’re capable of. Don’t hold back.”

Memaw nodded and walked over to a pile of weapons that were at the feet of Reuben.
 
She grabbed a six-foot long spear and threw it to me.
 
Grabbing one more, she spun it around so quickly it became a blur in her hands.
 
It was impossible even for me to see. It was obvious that she’d been going easy on me. We might as well call the match now; there was no way I was going to survive a real fight against Memaw.