The Blender’s Bargain – Chapter 19

Archie

The borrowed car rattles down the highway, the engine groaning under the strain of the speed I’m pushing. Dawn paints the eastern sky in bruised shades of purple and pink, but the light does nothing to ease the knot tightening in my stomach.

Leaving Garrick asleep in that bed was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Harder than facing down possessed bicycles, harder than staring into that terrifying vortex. Harder even than getting dumped by Lex.

I clench the steering wheel until my knuckles ache. It was the right thing to do. This quest, this magic… it’s mine to deal with. My mother’s legacy, my burden. Dragging Garrick further into this mess is wrong, selfish. He deserves a normal life, not a partner whose family secrets might unleash armageddon.

Still. The memory of his touch, his mouth on mine, the sheer intensity of him inside me… a shiver runs over my neck and down my chest, unrelated to the morning chill. My skin prickles where his hands explored, my lips tingle, remembering his kisses. How can something feel so right and be so dangerous at the same time?

I’ve watched Garrick for years. The way he is with his students — patient, kind, but firm when needed. How he stays late to help struggling readers, brings in special books for the kids who need extra challenges. I’ve seen him sit on those tiny chairs, his long legs folded to the side, just to be at eye level with a crying child.

God, I’ve wanted him for so long. Stolen glances in the teacher’s lounge, lingering a bit too long when our hands brushed passing papers. I’d make excuses to visit his classroom so I could see his face light up when he talked about some new book he was introducing to his kids.

But I said nothing. Never made a move. I was too scared of rejection, too worried about workplace awkwardness if things went south. And then Lex came along, all charm and attention, and I thought that was what I needed instead.

What a joke that turned out to be.

And now? Now I finally know what it’s like to be with Garrick — to be held by him, kissed by him, filled by him — and I have to walk away. The timing couldn’t possibly be worse. The universe has a sick sense of humor, giving me everything I’ve wanted right before yanking it all away.

Focus, Archie. Rumblestone. Mom. Answers.

I glance at the blender buckled into the passenger seat beside me. Ysroth has been silent since I snuck out, almost as if he senses my turmoil. Or perhaps he’s just sulking.

“You okay over there?” I ask the appliance.

“I can’t believe you,” Ysroth grumbles, his voice crackling with indignation. “While the world teeters on the brink of magical catastrophe, you and that overgrown bookworm decide to engage in… carnal relations!”

I almost swerve off the road. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t play innocent with me, young lady. I may be trapped in this infernal contraption, but I’m not deaf! The sounds coming from that bedroom were positively scandalous.”

My face burns hotter than the engine. “That is none of your business!”

“It becomes my business when you’re wasting precious time rolling around like lovesick teenagers instead of focusing on our mission!” he snaps. “Dark forces are gathering, rifts are tearing through reality, and you’re busy discovering if size really does matter.”

“Oh my God, stop talking right now,” I groan, mortified beyond belief. “We’re adults, Ysroth. Sometimes adults have… connections.”

“Connections?” he scoffs. “Is that what they’re calling it these days? In my time, we called it rutting like wild animals during mating season.”

“I swear I will drive this car straight into a ditch if you don’t shut up.”

“Fine, fine. Far be it from me to judge your questionable priorities,” he mutters. “Though I must say, for all that racket, I hope it was at least worth abandoning him this morning.”

I grip the wheel tighter, guilt stabbing through me. “I didn’t abandon him. I’m protecting him.”

“Ah yes, the noble self-sacrifice. How original.” His tone softens. “You know, child, sometimes the bravest thing isn’t facing danger alone. It’s letting someone face it with you.”

I blink back sudden tears. “When did you get so wise about relationships?”

“I’ve lived for centuries, you impudent girl. I’ve forgotten more about love than you’ll ever know.” He pauses and adds, “Besides, the boy looks at you like you hung the moon and stars. Only a complete nincompoop would throw that away.”

Despite everything, I laugh. “Did you just say ‘nincompoop’?”

“Focus on the road, you impossible woman,” he grumbles, but I can hear the smile in his voice.

The road curves, following the path of a wide, sluggish river. As we parallel the water, a strange tingling starts in my palms, spreading up my arms. It’s like static electricity, but deeper, resonating in my bones. I flex my fingers on the wheel. What is that?

Is it… magic? The thought pops into my head, unbidden. The charm, Dad’s story, the way the water called to me back at the lake… No. Stop it. I am not magical. I’m a third-grade teacher who makes terrible life choices. That’s it.

But the tingling intensifies as we cross a bridge over the river. My grip tightens. The water below, its currents, its depths… It’s pulling at me, a strange, insistent hum matching the one inside my own veins.

The image of Garrick fills my mind again, his face above mine in the moonlight, eyes dark with a need that mirrored my own. The way he groaned my name, his weight pinning me to the mattress…

Heat floods my cheeks, my breath catching. My body reacts instantly, a low thrum starting between my legs. Shit. Not now.

The car swerves as I press my foot too hard on the accelerator. I yank the wheel, tires screeching on the pavement. The riverbank rushes up to meet me. I slam on the brakes, fishtailing before jolting to a stop inches from the guardrail.

My heart hammers against my ribs. I clutch the wheel, knuckles white, panting for breath. That was too close. Way too close.

“Get a grip, Archie,” I mutter, closing my eyes for a second. “He’s not here. Focus.”

Taking a deep breath, I straighten the car and ease back onto the highway, driving slower this time. Keep the handsome, capable, unbelievably good-in-bed distraction out of my head.

The sun climbs higher, beating down through the windshield. The landscape grows rockier, trees giving way to scrub brush and dusty hills. Up ahead, a weathered sign appears: RUMBLESTONE – POP. 1,247.

Finally.

Relief washes through me, chased by a fresh wave of anxiety. What will I find here? Will Mom even be here?

Just as the town comes into view, nestled in a dusty valley dominated by the looming structures of the mine, the car slows. The instrument panels blink. It dies.

What?

“No, no, no!” I bang my fist on the dashboard. I hit all the buttons. Nothing. Not even a click. The battery icon on the dash flashes red a few times, then goes dark.

“You have got to be kidding me.” I drop my forehead onto the steering wheel. Of course. Why would anything be easy?

I grab my small backpack, unbuckle the blender, and stuff Ysroth inside. The town isn’t that far, maybe a mile or two now. I can walk the rest of the way.

The air outside the car is hot, still, and quiet. No birds sing, no insects buzz. An oppressive weight hangs over the valley, settling onto my shoulders.

As I trudge toward Rumblestone, hope and fear battle for dominance in my mind. I keep picturing Mom’s face, her warm smile, the way her eyes crinkle at the corners when she laughs. She has to be okay. She just has to be.

I imagine finding her in some dusty library or makeshift lab, surrounded by ancient texts, completely absorbed in her research like she always gets. She’ll look up, surprised to see me, break into that relieved smile. “Archie! How did you find me?” And I’ll hug her, tell her about the chaos back home, about Dad’s worry.

We’ll figure out this magic stuff together. Maybe she’s already found answers about our ancestry, about this Branwen person. Maybe she knows how to fix the rifts, stop whatever darkness is spreading. Then we can go home, back to our normal life. Well, as normal as life can be when you’ve discovered you might have magical blood.

And Garrick… God, I don’t even know what to think about Garrick.

One step at a time, Archie. Find Mom first. Save the world second. Figure out your love life third.

The sun beats down as Rumblestone draws closer. I just need to find her, convince her to come home, and everything will be fine. It has to be.

The closer I get, the weirder things feel. A low vibration thrums through the soles of my shoes, coming from the ground itself. The town looks deserted from a distance, but as I enter the outskirts, I see people.

Or… things that look like people.

They shuffle along the dusty streets, heads down, feet dragging. Their movements are jerky, mechanical. Whatever is happening here, my instincts are screaming at me to stay out of it.

I rush up to a building at the end of a block and press myself to its side, doing my best to hide until I can figure out what to do.

Their eyes… God, their eyes are vacant, glazed over, seeing nothing. A woman bumps into a lamppost, barely reacting, and turning and continuing her shuffling path. A man walks into a wall, stops, turns ninety degrees, and walks along it.

They’re like puppets. Zombies.

Enchanted. The word springs to mind, courtesy of Ysroth’s earlier pronouncements. This whole town is under some kind of spell.

This is wrong. Deeply, fundamentally wrong. An icy dread snakes up my spine. What kind of power can do this to an entire town?

“Ysroth?” I whisper into the backpack. “Are you seeing this?”

“Seeing? No. But indeed, I feel it,” his muffled voice replies, devoid of its usual crankiness. He sounds concerned. “This is potent magic. Darker than I expected.”

That’s not reassuring.

“What should I do?” I watch another man shuffle along the street in his pajamas.

“Proceed onwards. They won’t bother you.” Ysroth sniffs. “They were left like this so they wouldn’t get involved.”

I swallow hard, forcing myself forward. Keep moving. Find Mom. Get out.

The main street is just as eerie. More shuffling figures drift along. My skin crawls as I slip through them. They don’t seem to notice me, their vacant gazes fixed on nothing. I hug the sides of the buildings, trying to stay inconspicuous. My heart pounds a frantic rhythm against my ribs. This is worse than Stellura, worse than Brimlow. This feels like the core of the problem.

A diner at the end of the street catches my attention as its door slams. Its windows are grimy, a neon sign quiet and dark. And inside… through the dirty glass…

Mom.

My breath catches. She’s sitting at a booth, clutching a coffee mug. Alive. Relief washes over me, so potent it almost buckles my knees.

But she’s not alone. Two large, rough-looking men flank her in the booth. Their eyes have the same vacant stare as the townspeople outside. Enthralled guards. Another man stands near the door, arms crossed, face grim. He seems… normal. Aware. In charge, maybe.

Mom looks pale and tired, but her eyes are sharp, darting around the diner, assessing. She hasn’t seen me yet.

Okay. Plan. I need a plan. I can’t just rush in there.

Can I create a distraction? Find a back entrance?

I creep along the building, searching for another way in, my eyes glued to my mother through the window. She looks up, her gaze sweeping the street, and for a heart-stopping second, our eyes meet. Surprise flares on her face, quickly replaced by alarm. She gives a tiny shake of her head. Don’t come in.

Too late. I sense the people before I see them.

Hands grab me from behind, harsh and strong. I cry out and throw my weight around, but more hands join, pinning my arms. Someone rips the backpack containing Ysroth from my shoulder.

“Hey! Give that back!”

My struggles are useless against their unnatural strength. They drag me towards the diner entrance, my feet scraping against the dusty pavement. The man by the door watches with vacant eyes as I’m hauled inside.

“Found another one snooping around, boss,” one of my captors grunts, his voice flat, lifeless.

I’m shoved forward, stumbling, and land hard on the tiled floor at my mother’s feet.

“Archie!” Mom gasps, her eyes wide with shock and fear.

The man by the door pushes off the wall, approaching slowly. He crouches down, tilting my chin up with a dirty finger. His eyes are cold, calculating.

“Well, well. What have we here?” His voice is smooth, oily. “Looks like the family reunion came early.”