The Blender’s Bargain – Chapter 11

Archie

Garrick and I hurry through the streets, putting distance between us and the chaotic scene back at the anomaly. My scalp stings where I scraped it, but it’s a superficial wound. The actual ache is in my heart.

When Garrick pulled me close after the blast, I thought for one dazzling minute that he might kiss me. But the moment dissolved as quickly as it came, leaving me… I don’t know. Frustrated? Yeah. I am not only terrified, but sexually frustrated. How does that even happen? Does he have feelings for me or not? His mixed signals are maddening.

I glance sidelong at his handsome profile as we make our way into the Sylvan District. Even distressed, he radiates a steadfast strength that makes me feel secure. Maybe he’s faking it? Whatever he’s feeling, he’s not giving it away. If only I could see into that stoic mind of his, brush away the barriers, and stick my nose where it doesn’t belong.

The Sylvan District is hushed, the leafy streets deserted after the disturbances. Stately homes sit dark behind wrought-iron gates and sculpted hedges. It’s normally such a genteel neighborhood, but tonight an ominous vibe hangs in the air.

We pass the university gates. There’s no one around, and the area is quiet. Either everyone is gone or everyone is asleep. I’m not sure. Garrick leads us to the library, a gothic stone building, using his faculty ID to gain access. The lights within beckon like a sanctuary.

God, I hope so. We need a damned break. Maybe the ancient books inside will tell us what to do.

As we step into the silent stacks, the scent of leather and parchment is heavy in the air. Mmmm. If we weren’t on a dangerous, mystical quest, I could spend hours browsing these shelves. But we have little time, so I trail after Garrick.

Garrick leads us through rows of bookshelves until we reach a roped-off section labeled ‘Rare Books and Manuscripts.’ Behind the velvet rope, I spot a collection of massive leather-bound tomes and scrolls sealed in glass cases.

“This is it. If answers exist, they’ll be in these ancient texts, right?” Garrick shrugs. “I mean, there’s gotta be something…” He strokes the shadow across his jaw before he steps over the rope.

I catch his arm. “Whoa there, rule-breaker. We can’t just take these priceless books. We’ll get in a shitload of trouble.”

He frowns. “You got a better idea? That vortex almost flattened us.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Remember the whole shift in gravity, magical smoke, and explosion thing?”

“Okay, okay,” I say, holding up my hands. I press my lips together and sigh. “But stealing artifacts seems extreme.”

Garrick crosses his arms. “Who said anything about stealing them? We’ll give them back. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Isn’t saving the city and the world more important than preserving the books?”

Well, he has a point. If smashing some cases is what it takes to fix this mystical disaster, so be it. But the thought of breaking things in a museum pains me, especially after the many field trips I’ve taken with the kids. There must be another way.

“We don’t know for sure if the information we need is even here,” I argue. “And I took an oath to do no harm when I became a teacher.”

He snorts. “There is no such oath. That’s for doctors. I think stopping an otherworldly apocalypse counts as doing more good than bad. Pretty sure that overrides any teacher oaths.”

“Does it?” I muse. “Seems like a moral gray area to me.”

Garrick throws his hands up in exasperation. “Come on, Archie.” His lips twist to hold back his smile. “Let’s grab the books and get out of here.”

He reaches for the nearest case, but I step in front of him, hands raised.

“Okay, okay, just… Let’s not make a mess.” I realize how stupid I sound. I can’t help it.

I scan the area, mind racing. Books, glass cases, velvet ropes. My gaze snags on a fire extinguisher on the wall. That gives me an idea.

“What if we just break one case, carefully, and take only the most relevant book? We can use the fire extinguisher to weaken the glass first. That way, we minimize damage.”

Garrick considers this, then shrugs. “Worth a shot. Lead the way, partner in crime.”

I take a deep breath and swing the fire extinguisher at the glass case. With a resounding crack, spiderwebs spread across the surface. One more solid hit does the trick, shattering the glass. Garrick steps up, clearing away the larger shards so we can access the massive tome within.

“Got it,” he says, lifting the ancient book from its stand. A cloud of dust rises as he sets it on a reading table and begins turning the yellowed pages.

I lean in close, squinting at the elaborate script and illustrations adorning each page. But the language is foreign to me. “Can you read any of this?”

Garrick shakes his head, brow furrowing. “Not a word. The lettering looks vaguely familiar? But I can’t place it.”

I sigh. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Let me take a look,” Ysroth’s gravelly voice emanates from the blender.

Garrick angles the open book toward the appliance. We wait in tense silence while Ysroth studies the arcane text.

Finally, he makes a thoughtful hum. “Ah yes, an old form of the scholar’s tongue, used by ancient orders devoted to the mystical arts.”

I perk up at this news. “So you can understand it, then? Does it say anything about containing rifts or magic?”

“Alas, no,” Ysroth replies. “This volume covers celestial divination and astrology. Not the dark forces we now face.”

My shoulders slump. Back to square one.

Garrick shelves that book and reaches for another. “Let’s keep looking. Maybe the next one will have answers.”

We repeat the process several more times — shattering a case, Ysroth examining the book within, coming up empty. My anxiety mounts with each fruitless attempt. We’re running out of time and options.

“Please let this be the one,” I mutter as Garrick lifts out an ornate text bound in cracked leather, its pages stained and brittle with age.

He sets it before Ysroth, and the blender whirs as the magician pores over the text within. After several moments, he makes a pleased sound.

“This shows promise. A history of the orders dedicated to suppressing dark magic. It details some of the methods they used.”

Garrick and I exchange an excited glance, and I clap my hands. Finally, a breakthrough!

“Look here,” Ysroth directs us. “This chapter describes rituals for sealing away volatile magics. The incantations are complex, but it provides a starting point.”

I lean in, hope building in my chest. The intricate script swims before my eyes, indecipherable. But the accompanying illustration shows robed figures gathered around a glowing rift as they work their magic.

“Can you read the ritual out for us?” Garrick asks. “We’ll need to know it word for word.”

Ysroth makes a frustrated noise. “Alas, speaking it aloud is impossible in this blasted contraption. But you can study the text yourselves, and I will guide you through the pronunciation.”

Garrick eases the relevant pages from the book and tucks them in his jacket pocket. I wince at the desecration of the priceless book, but we now have our first genuine lead on how to combat the magical forces threatening everything we hold dear.

We burst out of the library doors into absolute pandemonium. The sky above Stellura glows an ominous orange, and ash rains down around us from billowing clouds. In the distance, flames consume entire city blocks. Strange groans and metallic screeches fill the air as many objects — cars, street lamps, even dumpsters — shudder and lurch about with unnatural animation.

“Good God,” Garrick breathes. “It’s like the whole city is possessed.”

I grip his arm. My heart is beating so fast, I might pass out. “This is way worse than when we left. What do we do?”

Before he can respond, a nearby parking meter uproots itself with a screech of metal. Garrick pulls me back just as it slams down where I’d been standing.

“Holy shit, that was close!” I gasp.

“We need to get to safety,” he urges. “My apartment isn’t far now. Let’s go.”

Clutching our bags, we take off down the street. My heart hammers against my ribs as we dash past overturned cars and shattered windows. It’s pure chaos, like madness has gripped the city. A stop sign whizzes past my ear and I yelp.

“Faster!” Garrick shouts.

We careen around a corner onto his street. Two blocks down, a car is on fire, the road littered with debris. We scramble up the steps to his building. The appliances clank in protest.

“Apologies, my friends,” Garrick soothes them. “We’re almost there.”

He unlocks the door and ushers me inside. I sag against the wall, catching my breath. Garrick sets down the bags and runs a hand through his hair.

“That was way too close for comfort,” he mutters.

I chew my lip. “Do you think it’s safe for me to stay here tonight?”

He considers it and nods. “We’ll barricade the doors. I’d rather you were with me than out there alone.”

My cheeks warm at the implication. Spending the night with Garrick? My feelings are still so muddled with him. But it’s better for me to be here than out there.

Before I can overthink it, a thunderous boom sounds nearby, rattling the windows. We peer outside to see another car explode three blocks away.

“Time to hunker down,” Garrick declares.

He closes the thick blinds on the windows, and I wonder just how safe we can be when everything is falling apart around us.