The Bridge (27 page)

Zhell landed on his back, the back of his head striking the ground. He sat up, seemingly dazed, and only watched with pinched eyebrows as Buzz grabbed Bryce with a tentacle.

Buzz rocketed past Everett, snatching him with another tentacle.

“Get them!” Zhell said, but they were already crossing the bridge.

THEY CRASHED
into a wall, narrowly missing someone who had been standing in front of the bridge. Buzz cushioned the impact, but it still hurt. Everett’s head rang like bells were clanging inside. They were in the empty house where the bridge had been created.

Everett pulled himself upright with the support of two unfamiliar female witches, one blonde and one brunette. “Did you get it? The note?”

He had written everything he figured out about the hybrids on a page and taped it to the front door before he left. This meant his grandfather had driven to the address and called the Order, and the Order had assembled their Bridge Masters and warriors—the very people who stood in the house.

“We didn’t need the note. The Bridge Masters sensed the bridge the moment it opened,” a man with a thick Indian accent said. He stood in the doorway, beefy arms across his chest. “You’re Everett Hallman, right? The new Bridge Master?”

Everett soundlessly nodded.

“Even with no training, you should have known we’d find out.” The man looked entirely displeased.

He should have been glad Everett and Bryce got out.

“We were about to head in when you came out,” the blonde witch said. She looked like Ann, but older and smaller.

“Zhell is still in there, including Omar and Sunny Jenkin, Jacob Lars, and—”

“It’s okay. It’s all on the note.”

There were other witches in the room, all armed with bows, daggers, swords, focuses, or any combination. Their clothes were simplistic and light. Easy to move quickly in.

Everett counted ten other witches. Another appeared in the doorway, and then beyond that were more bodies. They stood in waiting silence, watching and listening.

“How did you get here so fast?” Bryce asked nobody in particular. “Were you camping in here?”

“We used portals,” a faceless witch answered.

Bryce was more confused. “Where?”

“We need to get moving.” Mr. Pendley stepped into the room. He motioned for the witches to stand before the bridge, which was still open with its brilliant red flames.

“Wait. Dad, I don’t understand.” Bryce stood. “All this for Zhell?”

“And Omar and the other hostages. This is a rescue mission, as it should have been the moment Everett connected the worlds.” Mr. Pendley glanced at Everett as the room filled with commotion. “You brought my son into this. If he is blamed….” He let the threat hang.

“Everett.” The blonde witch touched his arm. In her other hand was a wooden focus, shaped like a warped tree branch. “We need a Bridge Master to take us in. I’d do it, but do you want the honor?”

She was a Bridge Master too? She smiled at Everett’s shock. “Let’s not waste time.”

Everett nodded and stabbed his hand in the bridge. “Go ahead. I give you all permission.”

Buzz exploded in size, tentacles shifting to razor blades that vibrated like chainsaws. He slammed into the bridge, screaming in a pitch so high, witches covered their ears.

THE REST
of the witches portaled into the house through the mirrors in the bathrooms. They came from all over the country, and some came from different corners of the world, several of whom spoke little English. Mr. Pendley was one of the few witches who stayed behind to facilitate the witches coming in. When the seemingly never-ending line tapered off, only five witches remained to stand guard. In the bridging room were only Everett, Bryce, and Mr. Pendley.

“Won’t Everett have to bridge them back?” Bryce said.

“Omar will do it,” Mr. Pendley said. “He has done enough.”

“Dad—”

Everett touched Bryce’s hand. “It’s all right.”

But Bryce wouldn’t let it go. “Omar would have been stuck in there if we didn’t go in.”

“He would have been out sooner if you hadn’t kept silent from the start of this mess,” Mr. Pendley said.

“Yeah, but you would have disowned me.”

Pain crossed Mr. Pendley’s face, as though Bryce had physically struck him. “Bryce, don’t say—”

“Dad, I know. But you still would have been pissed at me.”

Bryce cupped Everett’s shoulder and smiled, then stepped toward the bridge.

Realizing Bryce’s intentions, Everett tried to withdraw his hand from the bridge, but Bryce caught his hand and kept it inside.

Everett said, “Bryce, maybe you—”

Bryce winked. “Relax.”

And Bryce went across the bridge before Everett could withdraw his hand or deny him access.

Everett expected Mr. Pendley to lose his temper, but all he did was shake his head in disappointment.

“He means the best,” Everett said, and stepped into the bridge.

He stared into the face of chaos. The battle was spread beyond the land he could see. Witches clashed with demons, wielding weapons, some holding focuses. There were no fallen witch bodies he could see. The witches overwhelmed the demons, and it was certain the witches would stand victorious.

But where was Bryce?

Everett ran through the chaos, defensive spells on his tongue. On Earth they would have rendered him light-headed or unconscious, but here he knew he would end up standing.

Zhell landed in front of Everett, his wings bladed and covered in gore.

Everett stumbled backward, overwhelmed by the stench of blood.

Zhell drew a sword from his palm, then split it into two that he gripped in expert hands. His eyes blazed a deathly red.

“Children ruin
everything
.” The last word was a scream.

Zhell raised his swords. Everett prepared a defensive spell.

A witch slammed her body into Zhell, knocking them both to the ground.

Everett fell on his bottom.

The witch chambered her daggers above her shoulders. She said an incantation and the runes engraved in the blades glowed a holy white. Then a demonic wolf leaped and slammed into her, her neck between its bloody jaws.

“
Back!
” Everett pointed at the wolf.

An invisible force tore the wolf from the witch. The wolf hit the ground meters away and continued to skid for several more. The witch landed on top of Zhell. Blood gushed from her open throat. Zhell flung her off and took to the skies, a heavy mist of blood falling off his wings.

Everett fled to the nearby camp where a few witches were tearing down ragged tents, searching for demons who were taking refuge.

Something flew over his head. He gasped and fell to his knees, then stumbled to a gap between two still-standing tents.

Demons shouted from all around, their guttural voices filling Everett with terror. He was taken back to his childhood, when he had had horrid nightmares that offered no escape. There was no security blanket for him to hide under now. He flattened himself against the ground, pressing his face into his folded arms.

The witches shouted. Something sharp cut through the air.

A tent collapsed. A demon howled.

Something wet tore apart. A body.

A sob caught in Everett’s throat.

Had he thought he would find Bryce so quickly? So easily?

One of the witches oomphed and fell on her back in front of Everett, a blade sticking from her arm. Everett instinctively pulled the blade out, loosening a gush of blood. He clamped his hand over the wound and imagined staunching the flow. He never should have removed the blade; it was the only thing keeping blood from spilling. Energy flowed through his veins and collected in his palms. When he removed his hands, he found that he had healed her and that he felt no exhaustion. He had never healed a major wound before, nor had he ever completely healed a minor wound. Scabbing over scrapes and large cuts took too much energy out of him in the living world, and the only wounds he had completely healed with one healing spell were paper cuts. But even paper cuts took some energy out of him.

A fur-coated demon crashed into the tent next to them, unconscious, but unharmed from what Everett could see. Everett crawled to its body to confirm its unconsciousness and saw there were no visible wounds. It was as though the demon had suddenly fallen asleep.

The healed witch cupped Everett’s shoulder and thanked him with a strange, unbelieving look. She leapt to her feet and hurled spell after spell at the demons that were using tents as shelter. The other witches cast slower but larger spells, speaking French and Spanish. Everett uselessly remembered that native languages were more effective for spoken spells.

“Buzz! Where are you? I’m in the camp!”

“Just got here. Cover your ears. This is going to get loud. Everett, shield yourself and the witches. There’s going to be a quake.”

“In here! I need to shield you,” Everett said, and the witches ducked into his tiny gap, jostling the tents.

Everett drew a circle around him and the witches in the air. “
Shield!
”

He dropped to his knees and covered his ears.

Buzz screamed, his voice too loud even for his swollen body. He floated in the sky, the size of a house, and then he dropped.

The ground crumbled around the shield. Tents were ripped from the ground. The earth rumbled afterward, dimming out the screams of the injured demons.

With the tents gone, Everett could see the carnage Buzz had created. Over a dozen demons were dead, and several more were injured.

“If you’re injured, get out.”

Everett healed the injured enough so that they could leave without major pain. The demons who were hiding in their tents had suffered mild injuries from being thrown about. Everett healed the children completely and before each one left, told them to never come back.

Buzz shrank to the size of a mattress and floated in front of Everett and the witches. “
Get on and we can pick off demons from the sky.”

The witches looked at each other and grinned.

“HEY, SLOW
down!” Everett clung on to the squishy handles of Buzz’s cap as the jellyfish spun in the air.

The witches were skilled, keeping their balance as Buzz zipped through the sky.

“Two demons facing north!”

One witch pushed them off balance with a summoned wind. The other two witches took them down with throwing knives.

Everett threw a random boundary line in front of a man who was taking on two demons. He loosened the shield with a spell and then kicked it. It fell and trapped the demons.

“Five demons ganging up on one in the south! No backup in sight!”

The Spanish-speaking witch pointed at a demon corpse and made it explode. Blood and gore splattered the other demons, blinding one of them.

The witch fainted, having used up all her energy. Everett tended to her, putting his hand on her forehead and sending a wave of comfort through her head. He felt her headache melt away, and he felt the blood leaking from her nose stop.

“Everett? What did you do?” one of the witches asked, and then shot her attention ahead where she felled another demon.

“I healed her,” he murmured, marveling over his work. Healing was such an exhausting spell category that most witches couldn’t heal major wounds without assistance from other witches, yet here he was doing the impossible.

“We’re almost done! Ganging up in the east!”

Everett looked at his hands. His veins glowed neon blue, sparks topping off his fingers.

“What’s happening? Buzz? What’s happening to me?”

Buzz ignored him and picked off another target for the witches.

Everett nudged his body between two witches and aimed his hands at a random demon. He pushed the demon aside without a second thought and then tripped another demon. He grabbed the two demons and threw them against each other. He tossed the two of them against another demon, and then he grabbed all three and hurled them at the ground.

The witches on Buzz’s cap watched Everett with horror.

“Buzz? This isn’t normal. I shouldn’t have this much energy, even if this is my natural territory.”

“Then stop casting spells!”

“What’s wrong with me?”
Everett spoke to his glowing hands. They tingled with unspent energy—energy that felt natural, but not as a product of himself.

“You’re stealing energy from everyone else. Stop it!”

And Everett saw it. A witch collapsed to her knees in front of a demon. Everett shoved the demon back at the expense of another witch. She staggered and shook her head, and then carried on.

“I have no energy. I—I steal it from everyone else.”

The children slacking off in the dojang. Bryce’s tiredness when Everett portaled. The unconscious witch.

He had thought Ashville was a sleepy town his entire life.

Every thread of spell-casting energy in his body wasn’t his.

He felt sick.

“We’re almost done. The demons are retreating. There aren’t that many dead. Most are—”

Buzz screamed, and there was no time for Everett to cover his ears. He tipped off Buzz’s cap, the witches on board reached for him, and then he was flying—in Zhell’s arms.

Everett grabbed Zhell’s arm. “
Burn!
”

Zhell swore and dove to the ground, dropping Everett on top of a witch who had just killed a demon. Everett rolled to his feet. Pain shot throughout his sprained ankle. He dropped to his knees and dragged his body away from the witch and the dead demon. He healed his entire body without thought. The witch’s eyes rolled into his skull, and he collapsed on his back, staring sightlessly at the sky.

Without the witch, Everett was isolated. The hill blocked the other witches’ sight. But they must have seen Everett take Zhell down.

Zhell grabbed Everett by his hair and yanked him against his chest. He pressed a sword against Everett’s neck, drawing blood.