The Blender’s Bargain – Chapter 12

Garrick

I can’t sleep. My mind keeps replaying the day’s events on an endless loop — the mysterious anomalies, our close call with the vortex, the charged moment I almost kissed Archie. God, I’m an idiot. We were both reeling and hurt from the explosion. She needed comfort, and instead, I tried to make a move.

I should have asked if she was okay with me kissing her. Consent matters, even in the heat of the moment. But my emotions clouded my judgment.

I glance at my bedroom door, picturing Archie sleeping soundly within. Does she have feelings for me like I do for her? Or was I misreading things?

My gut twists with shame and frustration. I don’t know how to navigate these murky waters. Romance has never been my forte. Especially not with someone as extraordinary as her.

With a sigh, I turn my attention back to the ragged book pages spread before me. I’ve been poring over the ancient text for hours, sounding out the strange words as Ysroth guides my pronunciation.

It’s slow going, but I’m starting to understand the gist of the arcane rituals described here. Methods for sealing away dark, primordial magic. If we can perform one, it may stop magic from consuming the city.

A high-pitched hum emanates from the toaster as Arvid stirs. “How goes your study, Master Garrick? Can you make sense of it yet?”

I rub my eyes, exhaustion creeping in. “Barely. This language twists my tongue into knots. But Ysroth is an immense help.”

The magician chuckles from the blender. “I appreciate the flattery, though in truth I’m quite rusty myself. It’s been an age since I last read these scripts.”

Despite his modesty, I’m grateful for Ysroth’s guidance. Without it, we’d be lost.

“Try sounding out this next passage,” he directs. “Slowly now…”

I take a deep breath and return my focus to deciphering the ritual. One word at a time, fumbling my way towards understanding.

It’s going to be a long night. But if it brings us closer to stopping those vortices, it’s worth every lost minute of sleep.

I stifle a yawn as I struggle through yet another incomprehensible passage, sounding out the ancient words, syllable by syllable. My eyelids grow heavy, the text blurring before me.

“Perhaps a brief respite is in order,” Arvid suggests from the toaster. “You have been at this for hours without rest.”

I shake my head. “I’m fine. We need to keep working if we’re going to figure this out.”

But a jaw-cracking yawn betrays my exhaustion.

Ysroth scoffs from the blender. “The lad is dead on his feet. Let him rest. The ritual will keep until morning.”

I open my mouth to protest, but Arvid cuts me off. “Master Ysroth is quite right. You need sleep to sharpen your mind. And…” He hesitates. “There is another matter we should discuss regarding your fondness for Mistress Archie.”

I freeze, heat creeping up my neck. So they’ve noticed my poorly concealed feelings for her. Of course, they have.

“Oh, I don’t… it’s not…” I stammer.

So much for subtlety.

Arvid chuckles. “Come now. It’s quite plain to see. The way you look at her, the protective way you shielded her from harm? These are the signs of an ardent heart.”

I rake a hand through my hair and sigh. No point denying it to beings who see straight through me.

“You’re right. I do care for her. But I don’t know if she feels the same way.” I slump back in my chair. “I’m hopeless at understanding women. Or relationships in general.”

“Do not disparage yourself so, my boy,” Arvid admonishes. “Matters of the heart require patience and courage. But know this: Mistress Archie cares for you a great deal. That much is clear.”

I perk up at this. “You think so? She seems wary of me. Ugh. I keep doing and saying the wrong things.”

Like when I almost kissed her without thinking. I’m such an idiot.

“Ah, but the course of true love never did run smooth,” Arvid says. “Or something like that. You must have faith. Speak from your heart, and it will guide you true.”

His words give me hope. I cannot believe I’m taking romantic advice from a toaster, but here we are. Maybe I need to be honest with Archie about how I feel. No more dancing around it like a fool. Just open my heart and lay it bare before her.

That sounds like the most ridiculous idea in the world.

She’ll reject me. We’re friends and coworkers, and that is crossing a line.

Right?

“Yeah, I don’t know, Arvid. But thank you.” The wise old toaster has shone a light to guide me through the murky waters of love. But swimming them is another story.

“Think it over. Of course, lad. Now, off to bed with you.”

Taking his advice, I gather the ritual pages and shuffle to the couch. Sliding under a blanket, visions of Archie’s beautiful face fill my mind, and my pants become uncomfortable.

Stop it, Garrick.

I’m in the woods, surrounded by ancient trees that tower into the dusk sky. The forest is hushed, filled with secrets. Archie stands before me, face streaked with tears. She’s distraught, shaking, and I’m not sure why. I pull her into my arms, holding her close as she cries against my chest.

“It’s okay,” I murmur, smoothing her hair. “I’m here.”

She clings to me like I’m her lifeline, her body trembling with sobs. I wish I could absorb all her sorrow and fear, take it into myself to ease her pain. But all I can do is offer the shelter of my arm, the beat of my heart, the solidity of my body.

We stand together as the shadows lengthen around us. What’s happening? Where are we? Her tears subside, and she lifts her head, looking up at me with those beautiful, haunted eyes.

“Garrick?” she whispers, like she’s not sure if it’s really me.

My name on her lips — it’s the best thing I’ve ever heard. I meet her gaze, heart aching, wanting to comfort her but not knowing how.

“Garrick?”

I hear Archie’s voice as if through a fog, distant yet familiar. The ground rumbles beneath me, vibrating up through my bones. The forest and weeping Archie fade as I blink awake, disoriented.

I’m not among the ancient trees, but on my lumpy couch, a blanket tangled around my legs. Pale dawn light filters through the blinds. The apartment is jolted by another tremor.

Archie perches on the edge of the couch, her hand on my shoulder. I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes.

“Was I saying your name?”

She gives me a strange look. “No, I was saying yours. Trying to wake you.”

“Oh, right.” I shake off the lingering images from my dream. Archie’s tearful face felt so real.

I glance at the clock. 6:42 AM. No rest for the mystical quest weary. And I’m so glad the blanket is over my bottom half because I have the biggest case of morning wood ever. Archie does not need to see that.

“Did you sleep okay out here?” she asks.

I nod, stifling a yawn. “Well enough.”

I don’t mention the dream. Now’s not the time to burden her with my subconscious longings. We have bigger problems as another quake rocks the room.

Archie grips my arm to steady herself. Our eyes meet, and for a moment, I’m transported back to the dream forest. But then she looks away.

“We’ve got a problem. Are you awake enough?” she asks.

I rub my face and sigh.

Archie’s face pales as another tremor shakes the apartment. An alert chimes from the other room, and she bolts for my bedroom without a word.

“Archie? What’s going on?” I call out.

She emerges wide-eyed and breathless, phone clutched in her hand. “I just got an emergency alert. There’s a massive fissure opening downtown, and they’re evacuating the city. There are only a few trains left out of the city.” She looks at her phone. “Only one, actually.”

My gut twists. We’re out of time.

“Shit.” I leap up from the couch, the ancient ritual pages scattering across the floor. I rush to the closet and grab my emergency backpack, stuffed with basic survival supplies. Granola bars, flashlights, a pocket knife — the essentials for my frequent hiking trips.

Looks like I’m finally putting that overly cautious habit to use. I pack clothes for me and Archie too, enough for two days. She’ll be swimming in my giant shirts, but it’s better than nothing.

Archie paces the living room, the discarded pages sandwiched to her chest.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” I say, taking her by the shoulders.

She nods, eyes glistening. “I know. I just…”

“We’ll get through this.”

I pull her into a fierce hug, wishing I could freeze this moment where I can keep her safe in my arms. But I know I can’t. Time cannot be stopped.

I take her hand, lacing our fingers together. “Let’s get to that train.”

She squeezes my hand and nods. We finish packing, gather the appliances, and head out the door into the unknown. Racing through the fractured streets, we dodge overturned cars and debris. My hand grips Archie’s, our feet pounding in sync. The appliances rattle in my backpack.

We have to make this train.

The road to the station is pure chaos. People shove and scramble, desperate to escape the dissolving city. But we push through, focused only on our goal.

The train is ahead, steam billowing as the final boarding call echoes across the platform. Archie glances at me, eyes wide and anxious. We put on a last burst of speed, lungs burning.

We make it just in time, hauling ourselves into the crowded aisle moments before the doors slide shut. The train lurches into motion with a metallic shriek, speeding us away from the epicenter of the city.

We sag into our seats, chests heaving. Around us, frightened families huddle together. I meet Archie’s eyes and release a shaky laugh.

We did it. We’re on our way out.

She squeezes my hand. “Where are we headed? I didn’t even check.”

I glance out the window as the train picks up speed, the city fading into the distance. “East, I think. Away from the destruction.”

After several minutes, a garbled announcement crackles over the intercom, confirming our destination.

“Next stop, Brimlow.”

I give Archie a bemused look. “Well, guess we’re going fruit picking.”

She stifles a nervous giggle. Only she can make me smile even now.

The train hurtles onward, putting miles between us and the chaotic city we used to call home.