The Blender’s Bargain – Chapter 18

Garrick

I sink into a restless sleep, Archie’s warmth pressed against me, her breath soft against my neck. My dreams come in vivid flashes, more real than any I’ve had before.

I’m standing in a vast cavern, watching Archie approach a glowing altar. She holds the silver charm, which pulses with an eerie light. Behind her, shadows gather, whispering, reaching. I try to call out, but no sound comes.

She’s going to leave you.

The thought isn’t mine, yet it echoes through my head with absolute certainty. I can see it in the determined set of her shoulders, the way she keeps glancing back at me with guilt in her eyes.

She thinks she’s protecting you.

Again, knowledge that isn’t mine floods my consciousness. I can feel her fears as if they’re my own, her terror of losing someone else she cares about, her certainty that this burden is hers alone to bear.

The scene shifts. Archie stands at a crossroads, one path bathed in light, the other shrouded in darkness. She chooses the shadows without hesitation.

She will sacrifice herself if you don’t stop her.

The voice is clearer now, familiar. Arvid? The knowledge pulses through me like a living thing. I know, with bone-deep certainty, that Archie plans to slip away before dawn. That she’s memorizing my face because she believes this is our last night together.

I try to move, to reach her, but my limbs are leaden.

You have magic too, Garrick. Different from hers, but just as powerful.

Magic? Me? But even as I question it, I know it’s true. Haven’t I always sensed things about others? Known what they needed before they spoke? Felt the currents of emotion swirling around me?

Archie turns, her eyes meeting mine across the dreamscape. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, though her lips don’t move. “I have to do this alone.”

My eyes pop open. What was I dreaming about?

Sunlight streams through the guest room window, warming my face. I stretch, a contented sigh escaping me. Last night… last night was unbelievable. Archie. Finally. My body hums with the memory, a pleasant ache settling deep in my bones. I roll over, reaching for her, ready for round two, or three, or to just to hold her close, wrap my body around her, never let her go.

But the space beside me is empty. Cool sheets meet my hand. Wait. Where is she?

I sit bolt upright. “Archie?”

Silence.

A knot tightens in my stomach. Okay, maybe she just got up early? Went for a swim again? Made coffee? She was so exhausted, I expected her to sleep late.

My eyes scan the room. Her clothes from yesterday are gone, so she must be up and dressed.

I throw off the quilt, bare feet hitting the cool wood floor. My heart pounds a frantic rhythm against my ribs, though it’s not time to panic yet. Where did she go?

I pull on my jeans from the floor, not bothering with a shirt. Out in the hall, the house is quiet. Too quiet. I peek into the kitchen. Empty. The coffee pot sits cold on the counter.

“Archie?” My voice is tight, strained.

Where is she?

Back in the great room, my gaze lands on the counter where we left the appliances. The toaster sits there, gleaming in the morning light. But the blender… the blender is gone.

Shit. No. She wouldn’t.

A folded piece of paper sits beside the toaster. My fingers tremble as I snatch it up. It’s a note. Her handwriting, messy, rushed.

Garrick,

I’m sorry. I need to figure this out before anyone else gets hurt.

A.

Is she out of her mind? After everything?

“She left two hours ago.”

I jump, spinning around. The voice, calm and measured, comes from the toaster. Arvid.

“What?” I grip the note tighter. “Why didn’t you stop her? Why didn’t you wake me?”

The toaster remains silent, its metallic surface impassive. Guess he only speaks when spoken to or when he has something vital to impart. Unlike his grumpy counterpart.

A door creaks down the hall. Archie’s dad appears in the doorway to his room, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He sees the panic on my face, the note in my hand.

“What is it? Where’s Archie?” His voice sharpens with sudden fear.

“She’s gone.” The words feel like ash in my mouth. I hand him the note.

His face pales. “Gone?” He reads the note and rushes past me, out the front door. I follow him onto the porch. He points to the empty space in the driveway where the old sedan was yesterday when we arrived here. “Oh, god. No.”

My mind trips through questions. “Was it charged? How far could she get?” It’s not like there’s been electricity here for the last few days.

Her father shrugs. “Like about sixty percent? Hard to say because everything else stopped working. I didn’t dare try to drive the car. What if it was possessed?”

If it was possessed, she’d still be here. Dammit.

He sighs and deflates. “She went after her mother, didn’t she? To Rumblestone. Those notes…”

Rumblestone. Sigh. Her mother’s notes mentioned it several times.

The ancient mining town nestled in the foothills of the northern mountains, over fifty miles from here. I’ve heard stories about the place, a labyrinth of tunnels burrowing deep into the earth, where miners once extracted precious gems and metals. The town is built right on top of the mines, layers of civilization stacked atop a honeycomb of darkness.

The mines. Maybe there’s something significant about the mines…

If Archie’s mother believed a powerful force was there, something worth risking her life for, then it must be significant.

We rush back inside, straight to the study. Archie’s father shuffles through the papers littering the desk, pulling out maps and yellowed documents.

“Here, look.” He points to faded script on a brittle page. “Rumblestone Mines. A nexus of dark energy. Her mother was convinced something terrible happened there centuries ago. Something they tried to bury.” He grips my arm, his knuckles white. “Archie saw these notes last night. She must have put it together.”

I scan the papers. Mentions of rituals, sacrifices, ancient power sealed away. And Rumblestone, again and again. The charm Archie held last night, the one thrumming with energy? It’s gone too.

Shit. She walking right into the lion’s den. Alone.

“I have to go after her,” I say, my voice thick.

“Yes. Yes, you have to.” Archie’s dad nods and runs a hand through his already messy hair. “I’ll go next door. The Henderson’s keep a spare car in their garage. They won’t mind.”

He rushes out again before I can respond.

My mind races. Archie, Rumblestone, dark magic. The ritual pages.

I dash back to the living room, shoving the precious translated pages from the library book into my backpack. Clothes, supplies, the granola bars we didn’t finish. I clean up in the bathroom and swear to myself I’ll do whatever it takes to find her, bring her back to safety.

I grab the toaster.

“You’re coming with me,” I tell Arvid. “What do you know of Rumblestone?”

The toaster sits silently for a moment before letting out what I can only describe as a weary sigh.

“Rumblestone,” Arvid says, his voice tinged with reverence and dread. “A place of immense power… and terrible sacrifice. The ancient Latarans built their most sacred temple deep beneath those mountains, at a convergence of natural energy lines.”

I stride across the front porch and down the steps.

“They were brilliant craftsmen,” he continues, “but their ambition outpaced their wisdom. They went too deep, tapped into forces they couldn’t control. When the catastrophe came, they sealed away the darkness… at a substantial cost.”

“What kind of darkness?”

“The kind that devours souls, young man.” The toaster’s voice drops to a whisper. “Some wizards wanted that power. Others did not. If Archie has gone there alone with Ysroth, she’s walking into more danger than she realizes. That cantankerous old fool will get her killed with his half-baked heroics.”

I approach the neighbor’s house and Archie’s dad is standing next to a car in their driveway. “Then we’d better hurry,” I tell Arvid.

“Indeed.” Arvid’s tone lightens. “Though I must say, this is hardly the romantic morning-after I imagined for you two. Next time, perhaps try handcuffs instead of heartfelt confessions? Might keep her in bed longer.”

I bark out a surprised laugh. “Seriously? Now is not the time for jokes.”

“On the contrary,” the toaster replies. “When facing certain doom, humor is essential. Now get moving, please. My metallic prison and I would prefer not to be obliterated by ancient evil today.”

Archie’s dad hands me the keys. “Here. It’s old, but it runs. Should get you there.”

“Thank you.” I grab the keys, shouldering my pack. “I’ll bring her back. I promise.”

He nods, his eyes filled with a father’s desperate hope. “Be careful, son. Both of you.”

I give him a grim nod and head for the car door, the toaster tucked under my arm. The borrowed car is a beat-up but functional machine. It’ll do. I toss the toaster onto the passenger seat, slam the door, and jump behind the wheel.

The engine whirrs to life, which is more than I expected. I peel out of the driveway, gravel spitting behind me, pushing the old car as fast as it will go.

Rumblestone.

Archie.

Hold on. I’m coming.

But a cold dread settles in my gut. What kind of danger is waiting for us in that cursed mining town?